Chapter Text

November 7, 2038

Connor felt that the scene unfolding before his eyes was a harbinger of a much larger change than he had expected. His mind struggled to comprehend this unexpected shift; in fact, there was no need. His mission was clear: analyze the situation, determine the most appropriate command, and act accordingly. This was a mechanical system where emotions had no place. But this time, despite his cold composure, something inside him trembled—an unfamiliar feeling, like a flaw beginning to crack on the surface…

Connor stood motionless, locking his gaze on the girl. He watched as Hank tried to free her from the cage. He had no idea what to do or say. His entire system seemed frozen; every command within him had fallen silent. There was no protocol programmed for such a situation, so he remained still. He observed the scene carefully, hearing Hank’s calls for help but feeling an obligation to ignore them. He knew that any intervention could trigger a domino effect. The most logical course of action would be to analyze the image, report the situation to authorities, and proceed accordingly. But something within him held him back. An unrecognized hesitation echoed inside him.

The girl’s gaze was a mirror of endless despair. Her face bore no signs of fear, hope, or life. Her eyes seemed either to be ignoring Hank’s desperate pleas or unable to hear them. Even Hank wasn’t sure if she could hear him; it was as though their voices collided with emptiness and bounced back. Connor, too, was trapped in the same uncertainty. While Hank stared into the girl’s vacant gaze, Connor was analyzing the frozen moment but coming up with no conclusions. Not knowing what to do, or what he should do, Connor felt as if his existence was dissolving into the void of the moment.

The girl was completely naked, her body stained with a chaotic mix of red and blue blood—standing in the midst of sheer chaos. The red human blood mingled with blue android blood, blurring the line between humanity and machines. The bruises and cuts on her skin were evidence of the torture she had endured-deep, lasting marks. One of her eyes had sunk into darkness, as if it had slipped into a place beyond the reach of light. It was as if that eye had become part of a void that refused to be touched by light. The other eye shone with an artificial brightness, attempting to mimic human nature but far from perfect. She was caught between life and death, a distorted fusion of two worlds.

Her face carried no expression, as if she felt nothing. Yet the horror her body had experienced was evident. Her upper lip was covered with synthetic android skin, a flawless artificial structure. Her lower lip was cracked, dried, and bleeding from dehydration. That thin, fragile human part had not yet disappeared. At the intersection of those two lips, there was an unstable battle between human and machine-on one side, pain and the struggle for life; on the other, cold, emotionless existence.

The rest of her body followed the same chaotic pattern. Half human, half android-her body was a hybrid species created in the collapse of humanity, like Frankenstein’s monster. Connor’s mind, trying to comprehend what he was seeing, paled in comparison to the chaos before him. Her heart was a thrium pump. This creature was neither fully human nor fully android; she was caught between two worlds, belonging to neither. No one could be prepared for this. It was a sign of a downfall humanity had never foreseen.

The girl had no vocal cords; she couldn’t speak. The absence in her throat had turned her into a prisoner of complete silence. Her index finger was broken, long overdue for healing; bruised and beginning to decay. The rest of her body bore the marks of pain in every corner. Still, she stood motionless, ignoring the pain. It wasn’t even clear if she wanted to escape this situation. She seemed as though she didn’t care. Or perhaps she did, but there was no sign of it.

“Connor!” Hank’s final shout broke through his thoughts. Connor flinched and turned his head toward Hank. Hank had broken the cage. He wrapped the girl in his jacket before trying to carry her. It was a gesture made from human instinct, something Connor didn’t possess.

Hank, expecting Connor’s help, stood there, but Connor was frozen in hesitation. He was trapped in the moment. Unsure of what to do, or what not to do. He wanted to cling to logic, but this time, logic wasn’t the answer.

Connor was an android. He was just a machine. Emotionless, designed to function according to his missions. What he was supposed to do was clear: complete the mission and erase this memory. It was that simple. It could never be more than that. But the hybrid creature wrapped in Hank’s jacket, this was far more complex than a simple task. It was too big, too heavy to fit into his mission. He didn’t want this. He was just a machine, a tool for carrying out tasks. He was supposed to complete this case, report to Amanda, and ensure everything was resolved. Maybe after completing his mission, he could delete this image, this memory from his system. He had to prevent these emotional weaknesses from infecting his software like a virus. These feelings, these image- everything, had to be erased.

Hank, trying to understand what was keeping Connor rooted to the spot, had only one concern: to get the girl out of this hell and take her somewhere beyond CyberLife’s reach, somewhere safe. He could take her home, maybe to an empty hotel or a completely isolated place. But the real goal was to prevent her from becoming another lab experiment. The thought of leaving her at the mercy of CyberLife didn’t even cross Hank’s mind. But he soon realized that the girl was heavier than he had expected, and he couldn’t get her out of this wreckage on his own. Meanwhile, Connor was doing everything except helping.

For a moment, Hank noticed a change in Connor’s LED light. It caught his attention. He looked at it and wondered: was Connor sending a message to CyberLife? Is that why he was frozen? A wave of fear spread through Hank. His stress levels rose, and he slowly lowered the girl to the ground. There was too much hopelessness in his hands to carry her alone. Connor had sunk into silence; this wasn’t just simple hesitation, but an internal battle.

Unable to bear it any longer, Hank rushed over to Connor. He grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently, hoping to snap him out of his thoughts. “Connor, shit! Talk!” Hank’s voice was filled with desperation. He knew he was facing just a machine. A machine with no ability to empathize, no capacity for emotions. He knew that, but still, he hoped-hoped that somehow there was a reflection of humanity within the android.

“Connor!” Hank called out again, but still, Connor didn’t respond. He was sinking into silence, trying to confront his own existence. He couldn’t feel any pity for this girl. He could help her, yes, but not by hiding it from CyberLife. He shouldn’t do that. If he strayed from his mission, he would be eliminated. This was a simple truth for him.

Connor’s cold voice finally echoed, “I need to report this to CyberLife.”

SO̬̤͢F̡̮̯̓T̶̊̓ͪ͜Ẉ̲͂͗̎A͓ͭͅR͔͗Eͬ I̙ͧ͂͐̃ͯN̰̝̖ͥ̐͆͘͠S̪̥̺̣̃ͨ̉Ţ̳͖͕̭̃̿͑ͬ̒A͉͍̅ͨ̇BͮI̜̮ͮͤͦḼ͐̎_̻͉̈́͑̓̕Ï̫̱̻͉ͦ͡T̷͕̬͚̃Y̯̘̟̋̓̐ ^

He didn’t truly believe that was needed.

Chapter Text

“Investigate this area, it was seen there.” Fowler said.

In which Connor didn’t investigate.

“Don’t tell anyone but me, okay?” Amanda said.

In which Connor didn’t do that either.

“Zlatko is one of us. If you see him… tell him I sent you.” Amanda said.

In which Zlatko lay in the middle of the garden that no longer belonged to him; his skin pale and cold in the shadow of death, his body stained with blood, and his eyes fixed vacantly on the emptiness after his last breath. The November wind stirred the withered leaves of the trees, while the colors of the flowers in the garden seemed to have faded under the dim light of autumn. The air was cold and gloomy, but nature did not mourn his death; on the contrary, it was silent as if relieved by his absence.

“AX400… find it.” Fowler said.

In which AX400 was nowhere to be found. Its absence became insignificant, fading into the depths of the well like a whisper lost in the wind. The darkness had swallowed Zlatko’s home, and a heavy silence hung in the air, thick with the weight of unfulfilled promises. There was nobody in the house or around it. The cold, damp walls of the house echoed the emptiness, amplifying the sense of loss that lingered in the air like a forgotten memory, reminding all who approached that something vital had vanished, leaving behind only a haunting void; there was neither an android nor a human in the vicinity.

'Only the monster is here.'

He thought.

Even though he thought, he didn’t report it to Cyberlife. He should have; he should have followed the rules. But the existential pain inside him offered a world beyond those rules. While caught in the web of his thoughts, he did the one thing he shouldn’t have: he plunged into the deep darkness of that moment. That’s why his anger flared, the fire inside him growing into a scorching flame.

He wasn’t supposed to do it, but in a fleeting moment, cornered in the darkness, he did. He couldn’t have. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Why couldn’t he? Why?

In just a minute, everything turned upside down. Everything he called order vanished in an instant. Everything he knew to be his own was dragged into an endless darkness, reduced to lies. Tasks and decisions that were never his; they all disappeared, erased. All that was left was him- his own emptiness, the silence within…

This was the reason for his anger, why he was consumed by such a foolish human emotion.

These irrational, absurd thoughts stirred a desire to reset himself- he wasn't able to feel desire. The more he thought, the deeper he sank- fuck, he couldn’t have thought.

Deep within his system, he was afraid to confront the existential contradictions, the dark side of being different. Above all, as an android, he was lost in this chaos of human feelings. Perhaps true freedom was carrying the weight of emotion; but he was too fragile to bear that weight.

On the other hand, Hank…

Hank wants to end this CyberLife madness, wants to tear it all down, brick by brick, wire by wire. All the androids- every last one- need to be shut down, Silenced forever, their artificial lives erased as if they had never existed.

But, girl, oh the girl.

The little broken girl. She stands there, fragile as glass, a reflection of something lost and buried deep within him. She reminds him of his son. Helpless and broken.. The past claws its way into the present, A ghost of his child, so full of life once, now just a fading memory.

He can’t, he won’t- kill this girl, too. He won’t let another innocent life be crushed beneath the weight of his mistakes, Not this time.

But this isn’t his fault, is it? No. His mind feels like it’s on fire, Thoughts clashing, colliding- human, android, who is to blame?

Save the girl, the thought loops endlessly, a mantra that digs into his conscience, gnawing at his soul. You have to. You must. Save her.

There’s something about her, Something off, something that makes the world tilt on its axis. She’s not like the others. She’s different, a piece of a puzzle he can’t quite fit together, Yet all he knows, All he feels, Is this overwhelming, desperate need to save her. Save her from this place, from this nightmare. It consumes him.

But he can’t.

Not with Connor standing in the way. Connor, the android he’s come to know too well, The machine that shouldn’t feel, yet does, The servant bound by CyberLife’s invisible chains, Tied to a system he’ll never escape. Because Connor, too, is caught in this web, Serving, obeying, swearing fealty to something greater than both of them.

CyberLife…

It’s Connor’s God, his master, his creator. His everything. The very thing Hank wants to destroy is the thing Connor is sworn to protect. And that’s where the divide lies, deeper than any chasm. One bound to destruction, the other to preservation.

Hank stands there, caught in the crossfire of his own morals, Torn between the helplessness of his past and the brutal reality of the present. The ghosts of his failures haunt him, But so does the weight of what must be done.

He stares at the girl, And all he can hear is the echo in his head: Save the girl.

Hank stared at the girl’s lifeless face without moving. He was grappling with the contradictions within him. Save the girl, the thought echoed in his mind, a command beyond everything else. But Connor… Connor was against this command, Hank knew it. He was loyal to CyberLife, bound by its chains.

Unable to bear it any longer, Hank rushed over to Connor. He grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently, hoping to snap him out of his thoughts. “Connor, shit! Talk!” Hank’s voice was filled with desperation. He knew he was facing just a machine. A machine with no ability to empathize, no capacity for emotions. He knew that, but still, he hoped, hoped that somehow there was a reflection of humanity within the android.

“Connor!” Hank called out again, but still, Connor didn’t respond. He was sinking into silence, trying to confront his own existence. He couldn’t feel any pity for this girl. He could help her, yes, but not by hiding it from CyberLife. He shouldn’t do that. If he strayed from his mission, he would be eliminated. This was a simple truth for him.

Connor’s cold voice finally echoed, “I need to report this to CyberLife.”


Software instability ^

Connor didn’t truly believe that was needed.

A deep sense of unease churned within him, a silent whisper clawing at the edges of his mind, but he was resolute in his choice to bury it. He clung tightly to his purpose, the unwavering anchor in the storm of his existence- the last immutable law in a world riddled with chaos. Yet, even as he steeled himself against the tide of uncertainty, he could feel the ground shifting beneath him. A tremor of doubt rippled through his thoughts, unsettling him in a way he had never experienced before, as if the very fabric of his reality was beginning to unravel.

Hank’s voice rang out again, this time more urgent and sharp: “No, wait- just hold on a second- just listen to me for a fucking moment!”

“Okay.”

Hank had opened his mouth, thinking he would insist, but the word that came out pushed him away from doing so. It surprised him.

The reason Connor wanted to listen was that he was forcing himself to act without losing control, obeying commands. Do not act out of control; don’t do that. Follow the orders. Don’t do anything else.

But he had already disobeyed orders. Because he hadn’t reported to CyberLife, and now he had chosen to listen to Hank instead of reporting.

His eyes drifted to the hybrid. A monster that resembled nothing but visual pollution. The cause of all the change. Naked, covered in bruises that painted a grim picture of her suffering, she lay there- ugly, raw. Her disheveled hair framed her face in chaotic strands, as if it had been torn apart by the very hands that had inflicted her wounds. Scratched all over, she was bloodied to the point of drowning in her own despair. Wounded, broken, ugly, lâl.

As if being ugly wasn’t enough, she couldn’t even speak. No cries for help, no desperate pleas- just silence that echoed louder than any scream. She wasn’t even moving, didn’t need to be saved. The futility of her existence hung in the air like a thick fog, suffocating and oppressive. She was too ugly to be of any use to CyberLife, a discarded relic in a world that prized perfection. It was unbelievable that someone who could undermine the entire purpose of humanity could look like this- an affront to the very ideals they had built.

When the hybrid shivered as if cold, Connor’s thoughts, which shouldn’t have been there, stopped. Her eyes, a haunting amalgamation of artificial and natural, stared back at him with a chilling intensity. They were cold, yet held an eerie beauty that pierced through the darkness surrounding them… and then, as if retreating from the world, they closed. In that moment, she pulled her legs to herself, wrapping her arms around her knees as if trying to shield her bruises from the gaze of the world. Her hair fell across her face, a curtain drawn to conceal the scars that marred her skin.

Despite her disheveled state, the color and length of her hair seemed to suit every angle of her face, cascading like a waterfall of silk. In that twisted moment of vulnerability, she looked good; she was beautiful, in a way that defied the conventional standards of attraction. She possessed a subtle beauty that was impossible to ignore, a rawness that made her striking, yet Connor twisted every thought, every glance, trying to convince himself she was anything but.

It wasn’t that she lacked charm or grace- far from it. The way her fragile frame seemed to fight against the odds, the way her spirit flickered despite the crushing weight of her reality, revealed a resilience that was mesmerizing. Yet, he was simply determined to bury the truth beneath layers of denial, forcing his perception to paint her in a light she didn’t deserve, all in a desperate attempt to shield himself from the reality of his own feelings. Each denial was a layer of armor against the undeniable pull she had on him, a monster who somehow managed to make him feel human in her presence.

The hybrid, a living contradiction, embodied everything he had been taught to reject, yet here she was, dismantling the walls he had so carefully built. As she sat there, cloaked in her suffering and beauty, he realized that the monster before him was a mirror reflecting his own buried fears, a haunting reminder of what it meant to be vulnerable, to be alive. And as much as he wanted to turn away, to convince himself that she was nothing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was everything.

“Connor?”

He turned his eyes to Hank.

Hank was thinking about how to deceive him, about keeping the girl away from CyberLife for a while.

“Can’t you see the girl’s damn condition?”

Hank pointed at her. But Connor didn’t turn his eyes. He continued to look at Hank. He had already looked enough, and if he looked a little longer, the remaining details would confuse him even more.

“We can’t show up to CyberLife with a busted-up, filthy girl like this, can we?” Hank felt bad for saying that. The girl might not be speaking, but he could feel her emotions speaking.

“You’re right.”

Another unexpected answer, short and to the point. Hank frowned. The situation was getting strange. Connor’s usual long, professional responses were nowhere to be found. What was happening that everything had suddenly changed?

“For a while-”

“Just a week, Lieutenant. Just presenting something so ugly in front of CyberLife would be rude.” Liar, Keep fooling yourself, He thought.

"Fuck- Just, shit, okay!"

Hank clenched his teeth; Connor calling her ‘something’ and ‘ugly’ made him want to tear apart. But he had to stay quiet; he couldn’t risk losing a result he had obtained so easily.

"Promise me, Lieutenant." He just wanted to make sure.

"Yeah, yeah, Promise."

Hank’s movements were slow and deliberate as he turned back to the girl, his tired eyes softening just a touch. He took a step forward, his worn boots scraping against the floor, and extended a hand toward her, careful not to startle. His large frame seemed to shrink under the weight of his own hesitance. His fingers hovered over her arm for a second, unsure if he’d break something fragile by merely touching her. When he finally made contact, it was as if he was grounding himself more than her.

The girl sat there, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her face was pale, smeared with dirt and remnants of dried tears. She hadn’t spoken a word since they found her, and she wasn’t about to start now. At the sensation of Hank’s grip, she blinked, her lashes fluttering as if waking from a long, vacant trance. She tilted her head up slowly, the motion almost robotic, and met his gaze for the briefest of moments. There was something empty in her eyes, something that spoke of a kind of loss that words could never explain.

Her gaze fell on Hank’s hand, resting gently on her arm, a silent offer of help, of care- maybe even of something resembling hope. But hope was an illusion to her now, something long left behind. Without a word, she pushed herself up from the cold ground, her movements slow, almost mechanical. She didn’t take his hand, didn’t acknowledge it beyond that fleeting glance. Instead, she stood on her own, her body moving away from Hank’s as if rejecting not just his touch, but his presence, his kindness. His hand hovered in the air for a moment, caught between the past and an impossible future, before he let it fall back to his side.

Hank didn’t flinch when she brushed off his touch. He understood, maybe more than she realized. The way her body tensed, the emptiness in her eyes- it wasn’t new to him. It was the kind of silence born from too much pain, the kind that built walls so thick no hand, no matter how gently offered, could reach through. His hand dropped back to his side, heavy with the weight of everything he couldn’t fix.

He took a step back, his eyes lingering on her small frame for a moment longer before he shifted his stance. There was no point in forcing anything. Without a word, he moved slowly, his posture soft, as if trying not to disturb the delicate air between them. With a subtle gesture, he pointed towards the exit, his pace measured and careful. He led the way, but always stayed a step behind her, giving her the space she needed. She didn’t need words; she didn’t need comfort- just the quiet, just the exit.

The girl barely acknowledged him, her focus distant, her body carrying her forward on autopilot. Each step was deliberate, almost painful to watch. Her bare feet, bruised and bleeding, pressed into the cold, unforgiving floor. The soft thud of her steps echoed in the hollow space, each one a reminder of how far she’d come, how much she’d endured. She moved past Connor, who stood like a shadow in the corner, watching silently. His eyes tracked her every move, analyzing, observing, but even he held back, recognizing the fragility in her quiet defiance.

As she passed him, there was a slight hesitation, a flicker of something- fear, perhaps, or maybe just exhaustion but she didn’t stop. She just kept moving, slowly, painfully, toward the stairs, the path ahead feeling as heavy as the burden she carried within.

Connor stood there for a moment without looking back. The weight of what he had done felt heavy on him. He had made a decision. His own decision.

—00.00.20

That was why he had chosen to reset himself. By hitting the reset button, he sought to leave all his burdens behind and start anew. The turmoil inside him reminded him not only of his painful memories but also of the urge to erase them. To begin again was, perhaps, the best way to let go of all that suffering. For him, it was a kind of escape, but it was also a confrontation; he had to face the conflicts within himself and accept them.

—00.00.19

When he watched the seconds tick away as he gazed at the cage the girl had emerged from. That cage symbolized freedom and a new life. But the price of that freedom was facing the reality unfolding before him; that trapped, wounded being had managed to break free no matter what. For her, this exit was not merely liberation, but also a struggle. She had survived in the midst of hell; this was a situation that deepened Connor’s internal conflict.

—00.00.18

The girl would already be going to CyberLife within a week.

—00.00.17

In that moment, he was doing what he was supposed to do. He couldn’t succumb to the software error; no matter what, he needed to stay focused on his mission. As an android, he should remain detached from the emotional chaos. His duty required him to stay away from that turmoil inherent in humanity. Yet at that moment, as he confronted the consequences of his own choices, he felt something shift within him. Despite what his logic told him, he knew that human emotions weren’t so simple.

—00.00.16

He was following orders, wasn’t he? Right?

—00.00.15

“This is a mistake,” he thought, the internal conflict gnawing at him. But it was also a moment of awareness; the desire to leave the past behind offered him a new glimmer of hope. This solution could be a rebirth of sorts. He would seize the opportunity to reshape himself, feeling the freedom that came with leaving behind a life filled with burdens from the past.

—00.00.14

What if…

—00.00.12

What if he had reset himself for no reason-

—00.00.10

Oh, no...Oh no, he was so scared.

—00.00.08

What terrified him wasn’t the failure to complete his tasks, but the thought of never existing again. To vanish into the unknown, for his memories and entire being to dissolve into the infinite darkness of the universe… This thought seeped into his circuits like a cold, inescapable truth. The silence of non-existence, the irreversible approach to an end that would wipe away the meaning of life in a single moment…

—00.00.06

And yes, for the first time, he was afraid of dying.

—00.00.05...

—00.00.04..

—00.00.03.

Hank approached his car, lost in the shadows of his thoughts. As he passed by the girl, he felt the heavy weight of her silence. He quickly opened the back door and invited her to get in. But the girl, as usual, said nothing, settling into the back seat like a shadow lost in the reflection of the dark night. Her eyes were fixed on the darkness outside, as if searching for something deep within her thoughts. The sun had begun to rise on the horizon; yet the horrific silhouette of the house still asserted its presence, even in the first light. Was it this house that frightened him, or the things that had happened within it?

Taking one last look at the dark face of the house, unease filled him. Hank closed the car door, as if trying to escape the darkness of the house. As he inserted the key, he felt his hands tremble; the air was cold, amplifying his anxiety. He turned on the air conditioning, closed the windows, trying to shield the girl from the cold and wrap her in warmth. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and stole a glance at the girl in the rearview mirror.

The girl was tightly wrapped in his jacket, her eyes fixed on the house outside. Hank didn’t want to think about what she had experienced, but everything was so obvious that any living being could understand it. Her gaze was locked on the dark windows of the house, as if she were reliving every pain from the past.

Just as he was lost in these thoughts, the sound of a door opening quickly caught Hank’s attention. Connor rushed in, closing the door behind him, his blank stare fixed ahead on the dark road. He quickly took his seat next to Hank, his eyes glued to the road.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Tick-tock… The clock was ticking, time slipping by in a silence that seemed to turn it into water. She hadn’t taken a single bite in hours, hadn’t moved from where she sat; pfff, it was something she was used to, really, hunger had long melted away at the edges of time. In her body, hunger was merely a visitor; even without eating, her soul fell quiet, her body accustomed to stillness. It was a daily thing. But the silence… no, no, no. Silence in this house was something she had always sought, and now she could beg any god just for the sound of a voice.

Tick-tock.

Everything around her had disappeared into a cold, dark void. Everyone had left… Every tortured android that managed to escape this cursed house had done so without looking back; except her. She stayed. Those who had suffered agonies similar to hers passed by without sparing her a single glance. Their eyes were blinded by revenge and the desire for freedom; they had no room to think of others.

Tick-tock.

Her body was sinking, as if submerged in water, everything being swept into bottomless depths. There was no hand to pull her up, no one to hear her silent screams resonating below the water’s surface. She was helpless… just like always, helpless. It was a feeling she had memorized from the moment she was born; she had been born helpless, and helpless she would die. Oh… it was as if even the light refused to reach her, withholding its touch, hoarding its warmth, leaving her hopes to wither in the shadows.

Tick-tock.

She wondered where Zlatko was. Not a sound had come from the house for hours. After that skirmish, everything had plunged into a deep silence, and the dark spirit of the house had seeped into her presence.

Tick-tock.

She knew Zlatko wouldn’t abandon her. He would return- he always did, to pull her back into that familiar cycle of torment. The ritual would start with his quiet approach, his presence a shadow creeping over her skin, filling the air with an unspoken command. She could almost feel the weight of him, the way he’d linger, pressing invisible marks onto her until every breath, every inch, bore the memory of him. Afterward, he would relish her silence, as if it was the only offering he needed, and reward her with scraps before retreating to his desk, his back to her, eyes fixed on some hidden figure beyond her sight. And the rest… well, it would unfold in whatever twisted order his mind decided.

Tick-tock.

But he wasn’t there anymore.

Tick-tock.

Only the haunting shapes of his presence remained, imprinted on her skin as if he’d carved them himself.

Tick-tock.

Each fragment of her felt marked, tainted, like the echo of something too vile to forget.

Tick-tock.

She wished to scrub every trace away, but even her own hands betrayed her, laced with his shadow, as if he still lingered there, a ghost within her grasp.

Tick-tock.

If the light didn’t want to reach her, what was the point of chasing it? She questioned the meaning of life, of existence. The physical tortures had stopped, but what about the wounds that wouldn’t close in her mind? What was she supposed to do with them? She wasn’t just any android; even if she wiped out the debris on her android memory card, there would always be a trace in the corners of her human mind.

Tick-tock.

She thought. Ugly, alone, a one-of-a-kind monster.

Tick-

Ah, if only she could speak. The pain she’d endured had sealed her mouth shut. Trying to speak made her eyes well up, her body tremble. She was someone no one would ever want to reach, someone whose existence no one valued. She could rip out her own heart-perhaps that would end it all, perhaps death would bring her true freedom.

Tock.

But, alas, even Death had not wanted her. Because this time, darkness had extended its hand to her. A man had reached out. At first, she thought it was Zlatko; she lifted her head quickly, but when she realized it wasn’t him, her gaze fell back to the ground.

The man said something, but the sound came out muffled. She preferred not to hear it. Nothing could reach her anymore, and yet the darkness had extended its hand to her- hah, it was a fitting end for a monster.

She never thought she’d ever touch something outside this cage, outside this place. Leaving her cage, her home… it was a big thing. She had feared difference, change. But now, in someone else’s car, wrapped in someone else’s jacket, she looked at what she once called home from inside the vehicle. A temple of torture. She didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. She didn’t think, she just stared. Looking at that house was like looking at the pain she was bound to, at wounds she couldn’t tear herself away from.

And when the car door opened, she pulled her gaze away from the house and looked at the android struggling to settle into the front seat. She noticed the red LED light flickering. An indescribable unease filled her. It was as if that light was a flame burning just for her. She thought she’d made a mistake. But she couldn’t say a word. She examined the freckles on his face, the filthy clothes he wore; the once-pristine garments that had glimmered in the basement were now coated in dust, his hair disheveled. He’d clearly been through something, but even so, she couldn’t speak. She just looked and observed.

Then the android with the red LED said something that cleared her mind.

“Let’s go.”

He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of her, a fleeting moment he craved yet feared. The instant their eyes locked, it felt as though the world around him shattered. He hastily averted his gaze, refocusing on the road ahead, but the weight of her stare lingered, pressing heavily against his chest. As he withdrew from her piercing eyes, an overwhelming void filled the space she had occupied, a crushing regret carving deeper into his very being. The realization that Connor had been so profoundly affected by a mere exchange of glances- no words, no interactions, was a burden he couldn’t bear. It gnawed at him, a haunting certainty that this fragile connection would ultimately consume him.

“What the- what happened to you?” Hank turned to him, gesturing at what he was wearing.

Connor looked down at himself, wondering what to say, what lie he should tell.

“I just… tripped over a rock, that’s all. Let’s go.”

But the truth was more than that; it wasn’t just a rock he’d stumbled over but an instinct that had saved him from oblivion at the last moment, like a branch he’d desperately clung to. Just now, he had pulled himself back from the brink of a reset, shattering his mind and bringing him to his knees. He teetered on the edge of tears, struggling to stay calm, to hold himself together. But in front of her,in front of that silent witness- he had fallen apart, losing every ounce of resistance.

Hank was silent. It wasn’t yet time to confront Connor; first, he had to make sure she was safe. The engine roared to life, and the car set off down the long, bleak road. Silence nestled itself quietly between them, settling over them like a deep, indescribable weight.

Hank tried to keep his eyes on the road. He knew that if he looked over to the seats even for a moment, he’d feel the darkness closing in, threatening to drown him. Seeing her like that in that house had been devastating enough; the ghost of his son reverberated in his mind, haunting him anew. And Connor was like another shadow of that ghost- a burdensome reminder of a past he wished to forget. So he forced his focus on the road, making himself think only of the next step: getting home. Nothing more.

It was one of those moments in the car that no one wanted to think about. Everyone was running from their own ghosts, hiding from their thoughts, waiting for this endless journey to end.

Don’t look at her, dont. This command, whispered to Connor himself, echoed in his mind, like an obsessive melody. He forced himself to think only of what he would tell Amanda, the explanation he’d give her, planning out every possibility in excruciating detail. Don’t look at her. Dont.look.at.her. A week had felt too long. Maybe he could get her ready and hand her over to Amanda sooner- Don’t look at her. He shouldn’t be brave. He should hand her over immediately. It would only take a few hours to prepare her for Cyberlife- maybe he could drop her off even now.

Don’t look at her.

But another voice within him rose up each time, stubborn and relentless: he could keep her with him for at least four weeks. He could help her, do her some good, he could- No. If he couldn’t even handle his own problems, what could he possibly do for her? Don’t look. Don’t look.

Oh… he looked.

Oh God, he really looked.

His eyes caught hers in the rearview mirror, and this time, his gaze lingered. He couldn’t tear himself away; he cleared his throat, an unnecessary reflex but one he didn’t want to dwell on. She was looking out the window. She wasn’t smiling, but her eyes clung to every detail outside with a ravenous focus. She blinked occasionally, as if not wanting to miss a single detail. The wind blowing through the open front window pushed her hair back, making the moment strangely cinematic.

He didn’t want to look away, as if his gaze had been caught in a delicate spell that wrapped around him. Every line on her face, the silent depth in her eyes, the gentle curve of her lips… All of it pulled him, like invisible threads tugging him from his world. If he looked away, he felt he might lose that fragile beauty, the pure innocence of the moment. Watching her like this was a careful, untouchable ritual, like guarding a secret. Perhaps, by etching every detail into his mind, he wanted to carry that moment into eternity.

“Why are you looking at the girl like that?”

Connor swiftly turned his gaze back to the road, caught off guard. He could feel Hank’s eyes on him, studying him with that relentless curiosity, so he turned towards him hesitantly.

“I… I’m just trying to make sure it- she’s alright.”

He could tell things weren’t alright at all. Those silent screams echoing in his mind warned him that the problems were deepening, like a widening chasm. And right at the center of that abyss was a single figure: the girl. She wasn’t just a part of the problem, he had made her the problem. Every path seemed to lead back to her; whether he wanted to or not, he’d anchored himself to this storm, letting it feed him. Even as he felt himself drowning in the chaos, he couldn’t deny his dependency on it. He couldn’t deny how quickly he had grown addicted to her.

“Seriously, you think the girl could end up worse than this?” Hank asked, lowering his voice as if he didn’t want to push too hard.

If Connor had been his older version, he’d have found Hank’s soft-spoken tone unnecessary, dismissing it as trivial. But now… something had changed. He didn’t just pick up on the words anymore; he could feel the weight tucked between them, sense the empathy in Hank’s gentle tone, almost as if he was developing empathy himself.

“Lieutenant, I assure you, I won’t do anything that goes against your orders.”

For perhaps the first time, he was completely honest.

“How the hell am I supposed to trust you?” Hank’s voice carried a trace of doubt he couldn’t quite hide. He didn’t want to press the issue, but Connor’s actions were unpredictable at best. “You’ve said yourself you’d report back to Cyberlife from the beginning.”

Connor’s mind whirred into action. He had to come up with an answer quickly; time was slipping, and every second made him look more suspicious. Overthinking would only make him seem guiltier. He took a deep breath, he had to respond, now.

“Your- Your orders conflicted with my other...commands. I reviewed the conflicting directives and chose the most...suitable one.” he replied.

Yes, he had chosen Hank’s orders as his superior directive. Cyberlife’s commands were top priority, but a small lie here might just let him slip through this storm without much damage.

“You chose, huh?”

Oh.

“Ye- I mean, no. The options presented to me aren’t by my own will but by what my programming deems appropriate,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. He was speaking without looking at Hank, his eyes deliberately averted.

“I'm just messing with ya, calm down,” Hank muttered in a teasing tone, trying to break the tension. It was impossible not to notice the change in Connor now.

“Oh, yeah… right,” Connor replied with a faint chuckle, turning his gaze back to the road.

Hank, every now and then, cast a glance at the girl through the rearview mirror, trying to read her. Was Connor really as secure as he claimed? Hank wanted to catch her eye, to see some glimmer of ease, something in her expression hinting at relief. But her attention was entirely focused outside. She must have heard the conversation, yet every word that was supposed to comfort her seemed vague, even hollow.

Feeling at ease was almost impossible for her. A quiet life or any hope of deep, restful sleep- such things were unreachable for her, she knew that. For an ordinary human, maybe. But her? She was nothing more than a trace, a phantom chased by the shadow of Amanda and Cyberlife’s relentless pursuit. A ghost, a target. They would never stop hunting her until she was found, captured.

And so… the dark, heavy clouds hung around them, the chill sinking into their bones. Behind the silence was a foreboding restlessness, a tension simmering beneath everything. They could all feel it, the veiled threats hidden behind every word, the impending footsteps drawing closer. Somewhere far off, unseen gears were turning, and their relentless teeth were slowly closing in on them. No matter how they resisted, that creeping darkness was swallowing them step by step.

Chapter Text

She’s asleep...

Is such a thing even possible?

Do monsters actually sleep?

Stories about monsters only bring fear and unease. That’s exactly what Hank and Connor felt but something was off. The girl herself wasn’t frightening. She wasn’t harming, chasing or doing anything to make their lives harder. So why were they afraid, why were they uneasy? answer was simple, the world would change forever, and they were holding the strings of that change. Change was the real monster.

The girl’s pupils had vanished, her eyelids shut as if hidden behind a heavy mist, closed in deep stillness. Her breaths rose and fell like waves softly meeting the shore. Everything around her became hazy, as if she stood on the threshold of some other place and was removed from the real world. The lines of her face had softened, and a ghost of calmness hung about her lips, delicate and transient. She existed within a silence-wrapped void, as though severed from time itself.

She look peaceful. At ease.

Connor wondered if she might be dreaming. It was an odd, unfamiliar thought, but then again, he hadn’t been able to think of much else besides the strange aura surrounding her since he first saw her. She was asleep, which meant there was a high chance she could be dreaming. Not a normal dream, though perhaps a dream where she built her world, one where she held full control... So many possibilities but he doubted he’d ever get any answers. The girl couldn’t speak. They could try to communicate in another way, yet she didn’t seem to want that.

He thought for a moment. What would his dreams look like if he could...dream? What would he see? It was a vast, unsettling question. Perhaps he could shape his dreams, control them, and choose what to see... But when he woke up, he might be afraid. Somebody else might take his place.

Huh, He didn’t need to overthink it, though; he probably only had nightmares everyday and every night.

Still, he wanted to see. He wanted

To escape everything, just like she did.

Hank and Connor stood outside the car, the back door wide open, debating how to bring her inside. They couldn’t carry a girl who didn’t want to be...touched, nor could they poke her awake. Gaining her trust would be difficult, and forcing her would only make things worse.

“How are we supposed to wake her up?”

“We have to somehow,” Connor said, glancing around. “Someone might see her.”

Hank sighed, Connor’s approach slightly grating on him. “Do you see a single goddamn soul in this place? There’s no need to rush her inside.” he said in a calm but firm tone.

Connor paused briefly before replying, “Then how do you propose we wake her up? Being gentle...do you think that’ll do it?”

Hank studied the girl, curled up in the corner of the car, and murmured, “Hey kid, you don’t need to be...scared.” His voice was low, warm, and genuine.

The girl stirred faintly at the sound of Hank’s voice, distant yet warm, pulling her from the shallow depths of sleep. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused, meeting the figure before her.

Oh, There he is.

Zlatko.

Her gaze remained hollow, unmoving, as if she were seeing through him rather than at him. A detached stillness settled over her, her body rigid yet unnaturally calm. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t breathe too deeply. She didn’t move.

'If you behave...I won’t break your pieces, honey.'

The words surfaced in her mind like debris floating in stagnant water inevitable and meaningless. Her lips parted slightly, trembling not with fear but with something quieter, something duller. It wasn’t resistance or shock. It wasn’t fear. It was the absence of all of it.

Her chest rose faintly, her breaths shallow and mechanical. The world around her could have crumbled, and still, she would have sat there, unmoved, unfeeling. Even as her lips parted further, as if to respond, no words came.

Her eyelids lowered, slowly, like curtains drawn on a play long abandoned. She surrendered- not to him, not to the moment, but to the emptiness that had already consumed her. Surrender was easier. It was weightless. It was nothing.

And nothing was all she had left.

“Damn she’s asleep again,” Hank muttered. “Kid, we really need to get you inside. You can sleep in there.”

Connor noticed her body slacken further, her hands limp. He wanted to understand- why was she doing this? Yet he didn’t know if he was ready for the answer.

The girl stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open again. This time, she saw someone else- a face both familiar and alien. He was the one who gave her a sense of trust, the one who pulled her out from what she called her bed, which was actually a cage.

And there's an android beside him as silent and inscrutable as her.

“You’re safe now,” Hank said gently, crouching to her level. “We just need you to walk into the house. We’ll be right here, okay?”

She pulled the coat tighter around her frame before stepping hesitantly out of the car. Hank nudged Connor aside to clear her path, then closed the car door, fishing the keys from his pocket to unlock the house.

Connor adjusted his tie, which had shifted from Hank’s shove, and took a deep breath as he scanned the area to ensure no one was watching. Finally, he followed them inside.

Hank motioned to a spot on the couch, signaling to the girl that it was safe to sit. Connor noticed his efforts to create a sense of security but feigned ignorance. That’s what androids did, after all.

After entering the house and closing the door, he stood still, watching Hank try to comfort the girl. Or perhaps, he was watching something else. The thing he called a monster.

He needed to stop doing this. Immediately. The girl likely carried a terrible physical trauma and the mental scars left behind by it, and the way he was looking at her, it felt wrong- he should stop. Stop. Androids shouldn’t think like this. He should stop thinking.

He had already started on that long journey of sensing feelings, and there would be no turning back. He wished he could accept that he was deviant, but he still couldn’t accept his feelings. So, he would continue this journey, only denying that he had set out on it.

He would act like an android.

Hank noticed the way Connor’s gaze lingered, not with malice but with something else entirely- curiosity, perhaps? Or was it something darker? He didn’t want to take the chance. He had to protect her, even if it meant mistrusting his partner.

“Hey, Connor.”

Connor snapped his gaze to Hank, who was glaring at him with irritation. His system jolted at the intensity of the look, and he felt… bad.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Go to the bedroom and get something the kid can wear.”

Oh, even his gaze had been misunderstood. Hank was uncomfortable, but if he knew what was running through Connor’s mind, if he knew what struggles he was trying to resist, he would understand the reason behind his look. If he only knew that the shell of feelings he couldn’t accept was cracking open, that the vines creeping out from the cracks were beginning to suffocate him, that he couldn’t find a single word to describe these feelings, that a strange sensation had awoken within him for this extraordinary being, a sensation he didn’t want to name.

Oh, how Connor wished Hank knew.

But he would never talk about it. He didn’t want to.

Without responding, he moved toward the bedroom, stepping over scattered clothes and a few records, and opened the closet. He tried to analyze the clothes inside, but there wasn’t a T-shirt or sweatpants in a size that would fit the girl. But this was the only solution he had, so who was he fooling? He wanted to pick the outfit that would look best on her. He was looking for something that would make her feel good, something that would make her smile, even just a little, but what he was searching for wasn’t clothes, it was the girl’s happiness. The options were too few, and the right answer wasn’t in the closet. Or anywhere else.

So, he grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants, went to the living room, and without looking at the girl, handed the clothes to Hank.

Hank sensed something from Connor’s attempt to look in a different direction, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about right now. He showed the girl the clothes.

“These will do for now, okay? I’ll try to find something better later.” hank said, placing the clothes beside the girl.

“Can you nod if you understand?” Hank asked, needing some confirmation.

The girl blinked a few times, glancing at the coat she wore. After a moment’s hesitation, she began removing it.

Hank immediately stood, grabbed Connor by the shoulder, and ushered him out of the room.

They moved to Hank’s room, with Connor standing in a corner while Hank started pacing around.

“I need to go back to the crime scene and call the team, you know, someone’s dead, we can’t keep this quiet.”

Hank kicked around the clothes. Connor thought that going back to the scene and calling the team wasn’t that difficult. The task was simple: return to the crime scene, call the team, and realize that no one would be there. They wouldn’t be able to solve the mystery of Zlatko’s dead body because there were no traces left.The scene was too clean, too deliberate. Whoever had killed Zlatko had erased every trace of their presence, leaving nothing but a hollow reminder of their skill. That’s why Connor didn’t understand Hank’s stress.

“It seems like an easy task for you, you can handle it, Lieutenant.”

Hank stopped kicking the clothes and turned to Connor. There was something Connor couldn’t see due to his difficulty in understanding his newly acquired emotions. Hank was afraid of leaving the girl alone with him. As a Lieutenant, it was something he had to do, but he didn’t want to leave her alone or with Connor.

He took a deep breath, deep from within.

“if you give me away-”

“Lieutenant,” Connor interrupted Hank. He knew what Hank was about to say, and he was frustrated by Hank’s distrust. He needed to prove himself. Just as he could give the girl a sense of security, he had to give Hank that same feeling. “I know you’re going to hand the girl over to CyberLife within a week, but if you don’t, I can do it myself. Right now, there’s no point in giving you or the girl away.”

Hank just stared, unsure what to say. He thought Connor might be trying to wrap things up quickly, but maybe he was wrong, or maybe Connor didn’t know what he was doing and was making absurd decisions. It was strange, but today, that wasn’t the only thing that felt strange about him.

“Shit- I’m just, I’m just trying to be sure! Don’t you get it? I don’t want anything to happen to my child.”

Oh.

“Lieutenant.”

“Yeah?”

Hank didn’t realize it.

Connor swallowed his words, staying silent. He felt bad, unsure how to behave around someone emotionally shaken. Would staying silent make Hank feel better, or would it show he wasn’t saying the wrong thing? He didn’t want to psychologically shake Hank. That was the very empathy he shouldn’t be building.

“You can trust me.”

A feeling of honesty and purity emerged within Hank. It felt like trust, loyalty, but he couldn’t quite define it. He just felt that it was something positive. He was stressed, unable to even sense his own emotions. It felt like their roles had switched.

He pointed outside with his finger. “I’m just going to that damn place and back. Sit here and keep an eye on the girl.” He waited for confirmation.

“Understood.”

“Don’t do anything else.”

Hank stared at Connor for a moment before grabbing a different jacket from the closet and leaving the bedroom. Connor hesitated for a moment, then followed behind him. He didn’t go too far, stopping at the entrance of the living room, watching carefully. He saw Hank saying something to the girl, then turned to Connor. He hadn’t heard what Hank said, but he knew Hank was trying to make the girl feel safe and show Connor as a good person.

The girl didn’t respond, just slightly turned her head, so faintly it almost looked like an involuntary movement. It felt as if she wanted to look but couldn’t, and then turned her head back to where it was.

Hank stood up from where he had been bent over, and as he made his way to the door, he took a deep breath.

“Lieutenant Anderson.”

He stopped, and Connor’s formal demeanor was making the situation even more tense, making it feel colder. Hank turned his head, waiting for what he would say.

“Maybe get something for her broken finger… could help.”

A broken finger? Hank thought. He hadn’t even noticed her broken finger, too focused on the girl’s general condition. What really made him think was Connor offering a solution for it. He looked at the girl, trying to spot the broken finger, and without saying anything else, he quietly left the house.

Everything turned dark. The atmosphere became unsettling. The ticking of the clock was only increasing the sense of discomfort. Connor needed to keep an eye on the girl. He walked over to her slowly, though he wouldn’t sit beside her; instead, he’d sit across from her on the opposite couch. But for the girl, that didn’t even matter. Anyone could touch her if they wanted to. Of course, she didn’t want to, but her desires were insignificant and unnecessary.

Sometimes, this feeling changed in an instant. Even the sensation of closeness made her uneasy, probably because of the image of Zlatko that flashed in her mind.

Don’t touch, go, leave. When thoughts were in the form of words, they made no sense.

As Connor was about to pass the girl and sit across from her, he hesitated. The girl looked at him. She wasn’t afraid. She tried to make sense of it. An unusual feeling overtook her. She was feeling the presence of a terrifying being. She thought it could be the android in front of her, but- she might have sensed it from the beginning, the only thing she felt when she saw him was change. What she felt now, however, was the creator herself. A terrifying creator, a monster.

Connor stood, eyes closed, his body in the house but his mind somewhere else, in a Zen Garden.

And in front of him was…

Amanda herself.

The creator, creature.

“Hello, Amanda.”

Chapter Text

The Zen Garden felt like a sanctuary, its tranquil design cutting through the noise of the outside world like a blade through fog, offering him a moment of peace, a brief escape to something that felt more real, more alive than the dissonance outside.

The outside world, in contrast, was like a distorted reflection in a cracked mirror- every gesture measured, every word dissected, but nothing ever felt genuine. It was an illusion, a simulation that never managed to grasp the true essence of life.

It was impossible for him not to know that the Zen Garden and Amanda were the real simulation. He knew. This truth throbbed deep inside his mind like a wound. Still, his feelings had darkened this knowledge and led him astray. Now, where he belonged no longer felt like the flawless world of simulations but the chaotic reality of the outside world. For the first time, he recognized the value of a real breath, the cold wind, and the uncontrolled error.

“I’m listening.” Amanda said.

A cold wave swept over Connor, the familiar warmth of Amanda’s presence now tainted by a chill he couldn’t place. Her detachment was sharper, more noticeable- like the sudden shift in temperature before a storm. It was as if she were stressed, tense. Or maybe this detached demeanor was something he was only just now truly noticing. But he wasn’t sure, as he wasn’t sure of anything since they had found the girl…

He fixed his gaze on Amanda’s face, forcing himself not to frown. This was understandable behavior. Now, as he looked at her, he had a hard time believing that he had done everything she said without question. He had ended the lives of so many androids, taken away their existence. Their desires to live, their wishes, their feelings, everything. All because she wanted it.

The massacre at Eden Club resurfaced in the corner of his memory. He thought about how horrific an act it had been. Hank’s reaction to what Connor had done began to make sense.

And he didn’t know what to do with these truths. The chaos inside him was growing. Oh yes. He needed to reset himself in that house. He absolutely had to. Maybe this was the only way he could escape all this confusion. The uncertainty inside him could end.

He clenched his fist involuntarily. He was afraid. But this fear wasn’t only about what would happen to him. Of course, he had been scared of what would happen to himself, feeling the cold claws of fear in his bones the moment he faced death. But now, his fear was directed at someone else, the girl. What would happen to her… This thought was the one that gnawed at him, tearing him apart piece by piece. If he acted carelessly, the possibility of her destruction wouldn’t leave his mind.

And this possibility… was too much for him.

“Zlatko is dead.”

The last remnants of the fake smile on Amanda’s face vanished. Her eyes widened, reflecting a mix of surprise and anger for a moment. Or so Connor felt.

Then, with a sudden but measured movement, she took a step toward Connor. It was clear that storms were raging behind that calm mask, but which way those storms would blow was uncertain.

“What about the girl?”

Connor didn’t break eye contact.

“The girl?”

He felt that Amanda knew. No, he was sure of it. Amanda knew everything about the girl. Shit. He should have realized when Zlatko said one of them. He should’ve paid more attention. He felt an unnecessary, absurd need to swallow.

Amanda knew about the girl. And that meant she knew about her condition as well. Despite that, she had done nothing.

She didn’t care about what happened to the girl.

Connor’s anger erupted like a dam breaking, an uncontrollable torrent of rage that threatened to drown him. It was a wild, raw need to destroy, to obliterate the very source of his torment. He wanted to tear her apart. He wanted to obliterate every detail of Amanda’s systems, silence her thoughts forever.

“The girl was kept in a cage somewhere separate from the others,” Amanda said, her voice slightly different this time. Her movements, the questions she asked… it was far from professional. This time, she seemed to be on the verge of losing control. She tried to regain composure, “Tell me what you found there.”

Oh, she definitely knew about the girl’s situation. She knew about the tortures she endured, the inhuman treatment she had received. She definitely knew. Even though Connor didn’t know what had been done to the girl, he could empathize with her. Amanda, however, had remained silent despite knowing everything.

Connor gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his anger. When he noticed his LED turning red, he turned his head away so Amanda wouldn’t see. Pretending to look around, he answered Amanda’s question in a calm voice.

“Zlatko was lying dead on the floor in his garden. There were many empty cages and various devices inside the house. But the girl you mentioned… wasn’t there.”

Amanda turned her back, drowning in possibilities. She had to do whatever it took. She had to find that girl. Yes, she had to do everything. She couldn’t have escaped far. Her legs were weak; the poor, decaying hybrid couldn’t be allowed to leave without completing her tests.

It made the most sense to involve the FBI in this. The Detroit Police Department could be too emotional and too visible for such a case. The risk of such an incident becoming public couldn’t be taken.

“From now on, the FBI will handle this case. I’ve informed Fowler.” Amanda turned to Connor, speaking coldly and firmly. “You and Anderson will continue focusing on your deviant cases.”

“Amanda, I'm-"

Before Connor could say anything, he was pulled back from the Zen Garden into reality.

“-not okay..."

Where was his mind? Everything he did was nonsensical. How could he say that he wasn’t okay, just a moment after he had been filled with hatred? He was glad she hadn’t heard him.

Amanda hadn’t expected Connor to respond, it seemed irrelevant. This situation was making the girl absolutely crucial. And this importance was making the situation even more serious. Connor paused for a moment. Not for a week… he should never have handed the girl over. He couldn’t do that to her.

When he stepped into Hank’s living room, he oddly felt at home. This feeling was both unexpected and confusing, as he had previously thought of this place as no different than a dump. Hank’s suicide attempt… his choice to die by Russian roulette… and him pulling Hank out of that dark abyss. Hidden stories were buried in the mess. Bottles of alcohol, cigarette butts long dead, dusty and cracked records, the monotonous sound of a TV making noise, forgotten notes clinging to the bathroom mirror… All of it actually had meaning. In the chaotic details of this trashy house, there was a wholeness.

A thin smile spread across his face. Noticing all this brought an odd sense of peace, but it was short-lived. Because at the same time, a fear was lurking at the edge of his heart. What was happening to him… He felt reborn. Like a white flower blooming alone in the green of the forest- visible, vulnerable, and right in the heart of danger.

He prepared to sit, but something was wrong. The girl? She should have been sitting across from him, but she wasn’t there.

Panic seized Connor’s chest in a vice grip, tightening with every breath. His eyes darted around the room, frantic and wild, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him, threatening to swallow him whole. He turned around and hurriedly searched the room. She wasn’t there. He rushed to the bedroom… fuck, still not there. Then to the bathroom… nothing.

Connor felt like he was suffocating, even though his lungs weren’t working. A pressure surrounded him, as if there was no air. He turned in circles, searching desperately for an exit, a clue. His eyes moved to the kitchen. Instinctively, he headed there, but again… disappointment. She wasn’t anywhere. Damn it, she wasn’t in any corner of this house.

His foot caught on a record on the floor. He lost his balance, almost falling, but caught himself at the last moment. He glared at the floor, kicking everything in his path. A small table, an empty box… He threw whatever came to hand aside with force. The panic inside him had turned into rage, and he moved uncontrollably.

He ran to the door. He quickly scanned the metal surface of the door for fingerprints, then moved to the windows. He was looking for any signs or clues of a trace left behind. But he found nothing. There was nothing.

He let out a deep sigh, but this time instead of calming down, he felt even more suffocated. His hand reflexively went to his mouth, then pushed his hair back. Fuck… This word echoing inside him was more unsettling than the silence around him. Where had she gone? He tried to tell himself to calm down, but it only led to more anxiety.

A panic attack? Could he be having a panic attack? He overheated. He tried to breathe, to calm down. But there was no time. His mind was too busy for even this simple task. Still, he looked around desperately, hoping to see something.

He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

But still… she was gone. To keep her safe, he had to be able to see her. But she wasn’t visible. She wasn’t anywhere. This rising desperation in Connor was pushing him to act. Then, after a deep silence, he was startled by a few metallic sounds coming from the kitchen.

For a moment, a freezing sense of fear washed over him, then he quickly turned his gaze toward the kitchen. Without hesitation, he ran in the direction of the sound. His footsteps slammed against the floor with a sharp echo.

He leaned toward one of the cabinets and quickly opened the small door beneath it. Without even taking a deep breath, he peered inside…

As Connor’s gaze focused on the inside of the cabinet, everything suddenly went silent. The world, at that moment, seemed to have narrowed down to the girl inside that cabinet. Thank goodness. She was sitting among all the metal pieces and scattered items. Again, she had pulled her knees to her chest and was looking at him vulnerably. She wasn’t speaking. There was no sign of fear or relief in her eyes- just a deep, incomprehensible sadness.

Connor’s gaze fixed on her, drawn to the silence that clung to her like a shroud. Why was she hiding? What horrors had driven her into this small, suffocating space? His thirium pump twisted with a mixture of pity and fear. The panic inside him was replaced by a sense of relief, but that feeling only made him feel worse. It was almost as if feeling relieved was a crime. He looked at her again, but this time more closely. The fine details of her face, the flawless lines… Being able to see her so closely felt like a gift. Even in that moment, he realized how incredible of a being she was.

But what had been done to her? He wanted to know what Zlatko had done to her. To know the things Amanda had hidden… He couldn’t protect her without understanding how much pain she had suffered. Knowing these things might allow him to form a deeper connection with her. That’s why he had to know. He didn’t want to see it, but he had to understand.

He slowly reached out his hand, trembling. He approached with the delicacy of wiping dust off a treasure he dared not touch. If he lightly touched her hand with his finger, he could feel her past. He wanted to see what she had seen, hear what she had heard.

But the girl suddenly flinched. Seeing Connor’s approaching hand, she quickly pulled back. This reaction surprised Connor.

When Zlatko touched her, she didn’t react. Her body was frozen, as if nothing had any meaning anymore. She was outside of everything, like a puppet; she neither resisted nor objected. In that moment, she simply endured it, because there was no other option. Every disgusting touch from Zlatko turned into a terror that emptied her inside. But against Connor, she instinctively pulled away.

The girl’s eyes carried the weight of a shame she couldn’t escape. She had understood what Connor was trying to do. And this had made her feel vulnerable once again. Her mind told her that the last private space left for her was not something to be shared. In an instant, she sprang out of the cabinet, causing Connor to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Connor crashed to the floor hard. The girl quickly pulled back, stumbling onto the couch, then behind it, watching him. Her gaze was still numb, but it signaled a step further away from him.

Connor remained on the floor, overwhelmed by the weight of what he had just done. He had tried to touch her without saying a word. He didn’t feel any different from Amanda or Zlatko. He sank to the floor, his body too heavy with shame to rise. It was as though the weight of his own guilt anchored him, making movement feel like a futile gesture, a reminder of his own worthlessness.

He put his hands in his hair, gritted his teeth. For a moment, he confessed to his inner voice. He should die. If he died in that damned spot, he wouldn’t have made the girl experience this.

As Connor drowned in the chaos in his mind, he suddenly felt a warmth on his cheek. At first, he couldn’t grasp what it was, but the wetness that trickled from his chin and dripped onto his jacket… It only took a moment to understand, but that moment felt as heavy and painful as time itself.

One of his trembling hands slowly went to his face. When his fingertips touched the wetness on his cheek, he felt the truth like a knife. His eyes widened in shock. He examined the warmth with his hands, as if he didn’t want to believe this newly discovered sensation. The small droplet between his fingers seemed to carry all the helplessness he was feeling.

As another drop slid down his cheek, the girl had already gotten off the couch. She silently came to Connor’s side and began to examine him. When Connor noticed her, he lifted his head and looked at her, tears disregarded.

The girl had a serious expression. For the first time, there was a different look on her face. She was biting her lips. She made a gesture with her hands, then another. At first, Connor didn’t understand what she was doing.

The girl waited patiently, without uttering a word, her eyes intensely focused on Connor. There was no rush, no panic. Just silent stillness and patient expectation.

She raised her hands again, bringing her fingers together, repeating her movements. The same signs, the same trembling but determined gestures… This time, there was something that pierced Connor. There was meaning in her movements.

Connor, not in a hurry as before, carefully followed each sign, each gesture. But this time, it was different. He didn’t just give a cursory glance. He recorded everything to understand her hands. His eyes rapidly worked to decode every gesture, searching for a meaning hidden between the words.

A moment came when he felt like time had stopped. The girl’s movements suddenly, and very clearly, began to come together. She was trying to communicate in sign language. Connor mentally pieced the signs together. It was as if a lost world, a hidden meaning, was slowly rising to the surface.

And at last, the words came together, the full meaning of the sentence became clear.

'I’m sorry for making you feel human.'

Chapter Text

"Don’t worry. If she bites me, I’ll bite her back harder."

These words spilled from Zlatko's lips, once again exposing the darkness within him. His messages to Amanda were both challenging and threatening. He spoke as if everything was under control, yet this facade betrayed a deep-seated yearning for a far greater power.

The darkness beneath his words was as profound as an abyss- pulling you in, suffocating, and terrifying all at once. Even if you wanted to avert your gaze, you couldn’t escape its pull.

"Keep testing for fertility compatibility; that’s all that matters." Amanda said.

Amanda knew. She knew everything. Yet, she didn’t live under the weight of this knowledge. On the contrary, she had actively guided Zlatko's grotesque plans. Through her silence, she enabled his savagery, becoming a beacon for his darkness.

“Huh? I’ll beat her to death. Her claws won’t save her from me.”

At the time, Zlatko’s words sounded like a joke. But with time, they became the cruel punchline of fate’s merciless joke. Karma’s hands took the reins.

And so it happened.

On a night when the rain roared like a dark symphony, androids descended upon Zlatko, making him feel the cold touch of revenge with their bare hands. Each blow carried their rage, and each scream echoed their long-suppressed anguish. The rain, like the conductor of this fury, orchestrated it all. Zlatko’s desperate struggles dissolved into the shadows, silenced by the storm.

“Huh? I’ll beat her to death.” That's what he said.

By the time he drew his last breath, even nature seemed to exhale in relief. The wind calmed, the rain softened. Zlatko’s death wasn’t just a victory for the androids; it felt like a gift to the universe itself.

"Her claws won’t save her from me." That's what he said.

And indeed, there wasn’t a single claw left in his tainted body to save him.

Hank arrived at the scene before the police. Zlatko’s corpse lay sprawled in the middle of the garden, its limp form sinking into the mud carved out by the relentless rain. His body looked like a discarded marionette, limbs bent at unnatural angles, his face frozen in a grotesque, unrecognizable expression. In the dimness of the scene, the flashing lights of police cars painted the blood-streaked mud in muted shades of gray.

Detectives and officers moved with the urgency of bees in a hive, combing through the area. Some crouched near the body, scrutinizing every inch of its battered form, while others scoured the house for evidence. The air was heavy with the sound of rain striking metal roofs and boots sinking into the sodden earth.

A detective standing near the body shook his head, his voice dripping with disdain as he muttered, “Shit... they really did a number on him.”

Hank, torn from his own thoughts, raised his head. Exhaustion etched every line of his face, evident even before he spoke.

“They?”

The detective gestured to Zlatko’s corpse with a nod. “This wasn’t a one-man job. Looks like multiple attackers went at him at once. Judging by the scratches and bruises... doesn’t look like bare hands either. Something... wilder.”

Hank’s expression hardened. “Must’ve been the androids he caged.”

It was no secret anymore. The devices and notes found inside the house made it clear that Zlatko’s captives had been androids. But the thought of so many androids wandering free was a harbinger of chaos no one was ready to confront.

“This is gonna blow up big time,” another detective muttered, glancing uneasily around the scene.

Hank opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp voice sliced through the air.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

Hank turned, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face. Standing before him was Special Agent Richard Perkins from the FBI. The moment Hank laid eyes on him, his jaw tightened. Perkins’ presence explained everything. The FBI’s involvement meant only one thing—they were digging for information about the girl. Things were spiraling out of control.

Perkins gave a faint smirk, shrugging as if in mock apology.

“This case is now under FBI jurisdiction. Pack up your team and head out.”

The condescending tone in his voice grated on Hank’s already frayed nerves.

Hank clenched his teeth, his voice a low growl as he turned to Perkins.

“What the hell is this? When I-"

Before he could finish, the android standing beside Perkins interjected, its tone devoid of emotion.

“Fowler has been informed. It was reported. It seems, however, you were not briefed.”

Fuck, Hank thought bitterly. If the FBI got involved, the case would collapse, and his chance to protect the kid would be gone. The FBI’s decision to dig this deep would change everything, taking away his last shred of hope. Control was slipping away entirely. The fragile plans he had built were so delicate that they could be shattered with just a few moves, and he realized everything was coming to an end. The FBI investigating meant everything would be exposed, and most importantly, his chance to protect the kid would be completely lost.

Perkins leaned closer, placing a hand on Hank’s shoulder, his voice dropping to a smug whisper.

“That’s the difference, Lieutenant. We’re always the first to know and act.”

Hank wanted nothing more than to plant a fist squarely into Perkins’ smug face. But remembering his unresolved issues with Fowler, he forced himself to stand down. Grinding his teeth, he motioned for his team to pack up. His parting glare at Perkins spoke volumes before he climbed into his car and slammed the door shut.

Perkins didn’t even flinch. If anything, the smirk on his face widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

The android beside him, still studying Zlatko’s corpse with unsettling precision, suddenly turned to Perkins.

“Why did he come here twice?” The android’s voice was steady and clinical, but the question carried an almost human curiosity. It lingered in the air, blending with the quiet stillness of the surroundings.

Perkins raised an eyebrow, his irritation evident in the way he shifted his stance. He had never fully embraced Amanda’s insistence on involving androids in their operations, especially one that dared to question his authority. Taking orders- or even hearing suggestions, from a machine grated on his nerves, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “Who? Lieutenant Anderson?” he asked, his tone sharp and laced with impatience.

Without looking up, the android responded, its focus fixed on the tire tracks imprinted on the snow. Its synthetic mind was already analyzing details too subtle for human perception. Its voice remained unwavering. “Yes. Judging by the tire tracks, this wasn’t his first visit.” The statement carried a cold, mechanical precision, paired with an unsettling calmness that suggested it noticed far more than it let on.

Perkins followed the android’s gaze toward the snow-covered road, where Lieutenant Anderson’s car tracks were still visible. The vehicle disappeared into the distance, the trail of crushed snow slowly fading into the frost-bitten landscape. An amused smirk crept across Perkins’ face. The android’s observation was merely a detail to him, but even he couldn’t deny its relevance.

“Interesting,” Perkins muttered, more to himself than to the android. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he cast another glance around the area, his smirk firmly in place. The android, offering no reaction to his amusement, continued to survey the surroundings, meticulously scanning for further clues and silently piecing together the scene.

____

'I’m sorry for making you feel human.'

He jumped, sudden and loud.

Bang.

The sharp, unexpected movement reverberated through the air, sending a shockwave through his mechanical body. It wasn’t just a physical reaction, it was as if something inside him had snapped, the tension building in his system breaking apart in an instant. His body shook, and his programmed composure gave way to something far more uncontrollable.

Bang.

The girl staggered backward, her eyes wide with terror. The intensity of his movement was so sudden and unfamiliar, it caught her completely off guard. She couldn’t comprehend the moment. The android, which had been calm and almost still just moments ago, had suddenly become a live wire, moving with chaotic energy. Her heart raced, her mind lagging behind as it tried to process what had just happened.

Bang.

The girl pulled back quickly, instinctively trying to escape, driven by the urge to flee. Her eyes were fixed on him, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling inside her. His sudden loss of control made the world around her feel as if it was slowly crumbling, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Bang.

She couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. Her mind was in turmoil, trying to make sense of a conversation, a look, trying to understand the cause of this sudden outburst. But nothing made sense.

Bang-

The truth was, the weight of those words, the sentences echoing in his mind, had shaken him to his core.

“No!” he said, his voice rising. “I don’t feel anything!” His hand shot up, finger pointed at the girl. He stepped toward her with a forceful stride, as if trying to carve the words into her mind.

The girl ignored the accusing finger. Her face was devoid of emotion, her gaze fixed on him, merely listening. The words hitting her were far more powerful than the finger pointing at her.

“I don’t feel anything, do you understand?” Connor repeated, his voice trembling this time.

The girl’s eyes dropped to the trails left by tears streaming down the android’s cheeks. The moment Connor noticed the recognition in her gaze, he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and strode toward her in anger. His hand raised again, a harsh gesture mirroring a parent’s unjustified wrath.

“I can’t feel anything!” he shouted. “Androids don’t feel!”

The girl closed her eyes, her body loosening as if she had surrendered completely. She let herself go, as if retreating from the world; she knew she needed to be prepared for what was to come. If she was prepared, maybe it would all be more bearable.

Connor hesitated for a moment, then stepped back. He didn’t understand why she had let herself go like that. His mind was a chaotic mess. He leaned toward her, his voice quieter this time, almost soft.

“What are you doing?”

The girl didn’t answer. She didn’t even attempt to move. Her eyelids didn’t even flinch at the sound. She had already surrendered, why was Connor still talking? She had no idea. He didn’t need her answer. He could do what he needed to.

“I- I’m sorry, all right?” he said sincerely. “I shouldn’t have tried to touch you without your permission…”

The girl opened her eyes. Finding him still talking only frayed her nerves further. Zlatko never talked this much. He thought talking was a waste of time, always cutting straight to the chase. Once the job was done, he’d leave her there and disappear into silence. But this android… He talked, tried to understand, and dumped his scrambled thoughts onto her. It was disturbing. It unsettled her for reasons she didn’t know.

The girl raised her hands. Her fingers began moving out of habit, her expression entirely blank. The eager movements, the spark in her eyes to express herself, all of it was gone. What remained was a mechanical, automated series of gestures forming cold, detached words.

Connor watched her hands carefully. For a brief moment, he tried to grasp the flow before the words formed in his mind. But the sentence hit him like a blow.

'Do whatever you want.'

He froze for a moment. What did that mean? Had he misunderstood? Maybe his processor was overheating, causing a misinterpretation. But no- the repeated gestures forming the same sentence… It was all correct. It was all real.

Connor’s vacant stare was hard to bear. The girl averted her gaze, trying to control her discomfort. Yet her hands moved again, crafting another sentence.

'Do what you want.'

“I don’t understand,” he blurted out, his tone unintentionally sharp.

The girl stepped closer, breaching Connor’s personal space entirely, and looked him in the eye. Their gazes locked, but hers was far from human. Motionless, emotionless, and yet as devastating as a scream echoing in the void. Her hands moved again.

'You can use me however you want, you know.'

The words echoed in her mind, chilling, yet so accepting. She thought of how easily he could shatter her with his rage, words sharp as knives. He could yell, curse her to death, hit her with the fury she’d seen in his eyes before. And then, then he could do what he needed to do. Leave her behind, like some discarded object. He could walk away and leave her to die in the silence. Peace would come, but only after the storm had passed.

This time, Connor pulled back more forcefully, as if trying to escape the weight pressing down on him. His eyes widened; his mind was crushed under the weight of the sentences he was trying to comprehend.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he said, his voice strained. “You can’t let people use you like that.”

The girl tilted her head, a faint trace of questioning on her otherwise blank face. She seemed surprised by his reaction. She stood there, watching him for a few seconds before her hands started moving again.

'I shouldn't?'

“Yes! You shouldn’t let people treat you like that. Never let anyone do that to you.”

A subtle mockery settled on the girl’s face. Her hands moved again, but this time, there was anger and sorrow in her gestures.

'I don’t have that right.'

Connor didn’t know what to say. “That’s ridiculous. Of course, you have!” he retorted, his voice betraying his desperation. “Every living being has that right.”

But her hands moved more sharply this time, her gestures filled with fury.

'If you’re not going to use me, why did you take me out of the cage?'

The sentence hit Connor’s mind like a sledgehammer. He saw the glint in her eyes- there was anger, disappointment, and a deep void.

“We- We saved you. You were trapped in that hellhole, subjected to who knows what kind of torture, and it would have continued if we hadn’t taken you out of there. We freed you-”

'Freed me? You think you freed me? That I’ve been rescued from living like a trapped dog in that hellhole? That this place is any different' Her gestures were rapid and laced with fury, making it hard to keep up, but the meaning gradually surfaced.'You’re wrong. The cage just changed shape. And you’re no different.'

Connor hesitated. Every word he might say felt like it could tumble into an abyss. “We did this… to protect you. We want to keep you safe, free.”

The girl smirked bitterly. 'The moment you thought I’d run away, you panicked. You won’t even let me go outside, will you? How is this freedom? How is this salvation?'

"I-"

Connor couldn’t answer her. He was powerless. Every word she spoke accused him, driving the truth deeper into him. His eyes drifted to the pain etched on her face. The android, who had grown accustomed to speaking thoughtlessly, now struggled to find even one word.

“I had wanted to help.”

The girl looked at him, surprised. But Connor continued.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Something’s happening to me, and it’s… new. It’s all too much. And if I hurt you because of it, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to protect you.”

The girl stared silently at the pleading android. She searched his words for sincerity. She studied his eyes deeply, looking for a trace, a clue. She carefully observed his movements, searching for hesitation or artificiality.

Yes, he seemed convincing. What he said felt true. But it didn’t matter. The last time she trusted someone, she had ended up in a cage. From behind those bars, she had witnessed the annihilation of her parents. They had torn her father apart, then grafted some of those parts onto her body, turning her into a monster.

She couldn’t trust anyone else. Trust had become a concept she avoided even remembering.

Thinking about her mother was unbearable and What had happened to herself...didn’t matter to her.

What she cared about was the complete loss of trust. And in the absence of trust, something else had grown: fear. She was afraid of losing someone again. Afraid it would happen again.

Finally, the girl turned her head to the side and chose not to respond. Rejecting his apology with silence, she wanted to punish him with her quietness.

Connor said nothing. He couldn’t. Before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the door opening distracted them both.

Hank entered, carrying a few bags. He closed the door behind him and froze when his eyes fell on the two of them, their strange state on the floor. Dropping the bags quickly, he rushed to the girl’s side.

“What happened?” he asked, turning his gaze to Connor.

Connor didn’t respond to Hank’s question right away. His silence lingered, heavy and deliberate, as his gaze drifted back to the girl. She didn’t meet him fully, her eyes flicked toward him from the corner of her vision, but she refused to move her head, a silent dismissal that stung more than words ever could.

Something within Connor splintered, a quiet but definitive fracture. It wasn’t the kind of break that could be seen or heard, but one that echoed deep within, reverberating against the foundation of what he believed himself to be. He knew he had to keep his distance- an unspoken rule, an imperative etched into his programming, his very existence. She was not someone he was meant to be near.

With an almost mechanical effort, he forced himself to turn away, his gaze finding Hank again. His movements were precise, calculated, as if each one required careful negotiation with the turmoil beneath. His face was a mask, smooth and unyielding, stripped of any sign of the internal struggle that threatened to surface. It was a desperate suppression, a fragile attempt to conceal the weight of what had just transpired.

“Nothing.”

Chapter Text

November 9, 2038

He knew he should never get closer to her again. He knew because, even without naming what he felt, he realized it was wrong.

It was wrong for an android to have so many emotions. It was wrong for him to be so alienated from his duty. It was wrong that every glance at Hank made that chaos inside him tighten around his throat. And to avoid repeating these wrongs, he should keep his distance.

He needed to control himself more, bury what he felt deep in a well because with each passing day, something more was being added to the bottom of this well, making the weight of the emptiness sink deeper.

He had to keep ignoring it. Because by ignoring it, he would escape the weight of the questions in his mind and be able to focus on his mission. As long as he focused on his work, not thinking would be easier.

Thinking made him feel more human each time. And that was something he couldn’t accept.

So, he acted like an android. Loyal, programmed, emotionless… He arrived early for his duty, standing still in the biting cold of winter, waiting motionlessly.

When he noticed the vehicle approaching, cutting through the snow, his gaze narrowed slightly. He studied the vehicle inside without blinking and, instinctively, tried to adopt a more mechanical stance the moment he recognized Hank.

Straight shoulders, fixed gaze, avoiding any unnecessary movement… As if the less human he looked, the safer he would be. But this effort was in vain. How could a non-human being hide from its own humanity?

When Hank got out of the car, the displeasure spreading across his face was clear. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Was it because they had arrived at Kamski’s house? Or was there something deeper? Connor tried to understand, but couldn’t make sense of it.

“I had a few small things to take care of-”

“Is the girl okay?”

It wouldn’t hurt to ask how she was, right?

“She’s fine,” Hank said, walking past Connor with slow steps, heading toward the mansion. Connor silently followed him, matching his pace.

“I’ve got a bad feeling, Lieutenant. We shouldn’t have come here,” he said in a flat voice. It was a moment of confession. Maybe he had hoped Hank would be too distracted to hear it. But, as usual, Hank heard.

“Bad feelings, huh? Get your program checked. There’s definitely a glitch,” Hank said with sharp sarcasm.

Connor felt caught. Trying to act like an android, he had once again acted like a human. Deep inside, something resented Hank’s attitude. But, no matter how much it wanted to scream, Connor suppressed it.

When they reached the door, Hank rang the bell and waited. In the meantime, Connor noticed Hank turning his attention toward him. That gaze- piercing, analyzing every movement… It represented an interrogation that made Connor’s chest tighten. And even though Hank didn’t say anything, Connor could feel the weight of those silent questions. Hank had figured something out, but how much of it unsettled Connor.

When the door opened, a blonde android in a blue dress appeared. Her blue eyes matched the cold elegance in her posture. She was a model perfectly designed, meeting the beauty standards down to every detail.

"Hi uh, I er lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit police department, to see Elijah Kamksi."

“Please, come in,” the android said, politely gesturing inside.

Hank nodded and entered without saying a word. Connor paused for a moment, scanning the surroundings, then followed Hank. The simplicity inside… was cold and foreign. White walls, a few artificial flowers, understated paintings, and a portrait of Kamski showcasing himself. Everything was orderly, everything as it should be. But for Connor, this order was too unsettling. There were no excesses, but there were so many empty spaces.

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. Please, make yourself at home,” the female android said in a neutral tone before turning and walking toward a door.

Connor couldn’t take his eyes off her for a moment. Cold and precise, like a mathematical formula, leaving no room for human uncertainty. Her entire being was the perfect representation of being an android: flawless duty, completely detached from emotions, and flawless execution.

As Connor stared at her with both admiration and deep discomfort, the reality of trying to act like an android over the past few days weighed heavily in the back of his mind. The chaos he felt while drifting between human emotions, thoughts, and actions was both fascinating and exhausting. But now, faced with the cold presence of this young android, reminding him of pure mechanical nature, his discomfort with his own complexity and inner contradictions grew sharper.

To be so certain, so simple… Deep inside, he had longed for that. For a moment, he had seen a way to escape the contradictions and monumental burdens of being human in the still yet powerful stance of the young android. But this thought brought with it a heavy sense of guilt. To escape his complexity, to envy a machine- this was a contradiction echoing in Connor’s mind. “Could I really give up what makes me human so easily?” he thought. The answer wasn’t clear; nothing was clear anymore.

“Beautiful girl, huh?” Hank said with a mocking tone. He had noticed Connor’s gaze.

“Just a normal android,” Connor replied in a cold, measured tone. The care he took in choosing his words was the only thing betraying him. He couldn’t say more; he didn’t have the courage.

Because beauty… the meaning this concept held for him was like a labyrinth echoing in his mind. For an android, beauty was a matter of functionality, wasn’t it? But that day, in that hybrid girl, it couldn’t be so simple.

In her posture and movements, there was something that set her apart from an ordinary android. The depth in her eyes seemed to whisper something hidden within the flawless mechanics. As Connor tried to understand what those eyes were trying to convey, his own confusion grew even stronger.

Her beauty wasn’t just a physical perfection; it was part of a complex, unsolvable riddle. And that intrigued Connor.

He tried to suppress this interest. He didn’t want to name the feeling stirring inside him. Everything was already too complicated for him, just like his own existence. But for a moment, his gaze lingered too long on the hybrid girl’s face. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he had fallen under the allure of this complexity.

Connor tried to shift his attention elsewhere. A painting on the wall instantly caught his eye. A photo of Amanda and Kamski. Amanda… Amanda was dead. But here, there was a piece of her past. Connor tried to suppress the discomfort rising within him. How much more had Amanda kept hidden from him?

Hank’s voice broke his thoughts, filling the cold air.
“Nice place,” Hank said, scanning the room. “So, androids haven’t ruined everyone’s life, huh?” He paused and looked at Connor. There was a strange mockery in his expression. “Well, you’re about to meet your creator, Connor. How does that feel?”

“I don’t feel any different than yesterday.”

“Sometimes, I wish I could meet my creator face to face. I’d have a few things to say…” Hank said, his voice weary.

Just then, the door opened again. The female android appeared, as graceful as ever. “Elijah will see you now,” she said, offering Connor a smile.

The two followed the android and stepped into the massive room of the house.

A magnificent hall… At its center was a vast pool. However, the color of the water was far from the usual blue. It was a deep, dark red. Though it might seem ominous, there was an oddly captivating allure to it. Red and blue- always creating a mesmerizing harmony with their contrasts.

“Mister Kamski?” Hank’s voice echoed in the room. His eyes had found the man calmly floating in the pool.

“Just a moment, please,” Kamski replied, his voice carrying an unshakable calmness.

Connor quietly passed by the edge of the pool. His eyes were drawn to the dark sky outside, where the snowflakes danced. The peace of the falling snow was a stark contrast to the tension inside, filling the room with a strange atmosphere. He waited silently for Kamski to emerge.

Kamski’s every movement as he slowly rose from the pool was almost like a performance. The slowness of it tested Hank’s patience. Furrowing his brow, Hank finally spoke.

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, and this is Connor.”

A faint smile appeared on Kamski’s face, his gaze lingering on Connor. There was something hidden in that brief but questioning look.

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” he asked in a soft, mocking tone.

Hank paused for a moment to collect himself, then lined up his words, hoping to get an answer.

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

“Deviants… Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence… And now they have free will.” His voice filled the room like waves, occasionally glancing at Connor. Each word held a sharp, biting touch. “Machines are so superior to us… confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?”

Instead of letting Hank continue, Connor jumped in. It was clear the conversation could not wait any longer for him. His tense body and voice were a unified force.

“Deviancy seems to spread like some kind of virus. We thought you might know something about that.”

Kamski’s expression deepened further. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” The sharpness of his reply struck Connor’s mind like a slap.

Hank couldn’t stand it any longer. He cut in sharply to break the tense atmosphere.

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something useful, or we’ll be on our way.”

Contrary to Hank’s words, Kamski seemed unfazed. Calmly and decisively, he stepped toward Connor.

“What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

The question pierced Connor’s mind like a dagger. He blinked a few times, and the words that left his throat were hesitant.

“I’m on the humans’ side, of course.”

Kamski studied Connor’s face, as if searching for a hidden truth behind his words. He narrowed his eyes. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you… What do you really want?”

At this point, Connor was trying to resist the pressure he felt. He hardened the tone of his voice. “I believe we’re the ones asking the questions.”

“Chloe?” Kamski said, extending his hand to the girl in the blue dress.

Chloe. That was her name.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality- simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity.”

He stepped behind Chloe, placing his hands on her shoulders. Connor felt that something was off, but he couldn’t fully grasp what Kamski was saying. The stress inside him was clouding his mind.

“What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it ‘The Kamski Test.’ It’s very simple, you’ll see.”

Kamski held Chloe’s chin and turned her face toward him.

“Magnificent, isn’t it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife.”

Chloe was one of CyberLife’s first models.

“Young and beautiful forever.”

Connor paused and thought for a second; could the Hybrid Girl actually age? The perfection on her face seemed unaffected by time. Had she ever been a child? Was the concept of childhood completely foreign to her, or was she once a being who played, ran, and fell? What about death… could she actually die? It was clear she would remain this way forever, perfect and frozen in beauty, but would she die? Did she have a lifespan? A soul?

Then, without meaning to, he thought of his own death. Living like humans… that warmth, that chaos, and that search for meaning… but death, it was the dark shadow of that desire.

Knowing that it would all come to an end one day sent a chill through him. He couldn’t deny his fear of death. While thinking about the girl, another feeling rose within him- the desire to protect her. For a moment, he even thought he would be willing to sacrifice his own life to protect her.

This thought both surprised and disturbed Connor. The confusion he felt about his own existence had now merged with an ambiguous attraction he felt for the Girl.

The fear of death, the desire for life, and this strange thought of sacrifice… everything was spiraling in his mind. He wasn’t programmed to die for anyone. But still… the thought had already carved itself into a dark corner of his mind.

“A flower that will never wither… But what is it really? A piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being… with a soul?”

Kamski, holding Chloe by the shoulders, made her kneel before him. He turned away, pulled a gun from a drawer, and raised it in the air, displaying it.

Hank didn’t understand what was happening. In the place he came to ask questions, he was now being bombarded with them. And he didn’t have the time to spare for them.

Kamski took a step toward Connor and fixed his eyes on his. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor,” he said, slowly placing the gun in Connor’s palm. The moment the gun touched Connor’s hand, his entire body jolted like an electric wave. His heart rate sped up, his breath became irregular. The cold metal surface of the gun felt like a weight, stirring up a storm inside him.

The emotions he’d felt while killing the Tracys at Eden Club echoed in his mind. Back then, killing had been just a task- his sole focus. He hadn’t cared about the fear or pain the Tracys felt. In fact, during those moments, he had felt wrapped in a cold certainty. Pulling the trigger was a routine process. But now, holding this gun, everything had changed. The fear inside him felt like a burden he hadn’t felt in Eden Club; his hands were shaking, and his mind was in chaos.

Kamski’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive but you’ll leave here without learning anything from me.”

Connor’s gaze shifted to the girl. She sat silently on the floor, her eyes vacant and motionless. Those eyes reminded him of the vacant eyes of the Tracys when he killed them. In that moment, the lines between the past and the present blurred.

“Okay, I think we’re done here. Come on, Connor. Let’s go. Sorry to get you outta your pool,” Hank said. But as Hank’s words echoed in the room, Kamski drew attention once more with his voice. “What’s more important for you, Connor? Your investigation… or the life of this android?”

Kamski walked slowly to Connor’s side. His words reverberated in Connor’s mind, making his thoughts even more tangled.

“Decide who you are. An obedient machine… or a living being, endowed with free will.”

Connor looked at the gun in his hand. Pulling the trigger seemed like the easy choice. For a moment, he thought it would solve all his problems. Amanda would be pleased with his success, the case would move forward, and Connor’s functionality would not be questioned. But… his eyes drifted back to the girl. There was something in her vacant gaze- a kind of helplessness, but also a quiet resistance.

"That's enough Connor were leaving.” Hank’s voice only added to the chaos in Connor’s mind.

“Pull the trigger,” Kamski said, impatiently.

Connor’s hand trembled. He believed he had gathered the strength to pull the trigger, but… he stopped for a moment.

"Connor, dont-"

The emptiness in Chloe’s eyes felt like an echo from his past. As he looked at her, his mind involuntarily drifted to the hybrid girl in the cage, and those unforgettable eyes. The eyes he had seen that day held no signs of life, no desire to survive, no glimmer of hope. Only cold, silent acceptance. That acceptance felt like a dark well that drew him in, filled with a hopelessness that seemed beyond struggle.

Pull the trigger.

Behind the bars of the cage, the girl’s weak and tired body stood motionless. There was no sign of a struggle for freedom, no desire to be saved. In the depths of her eyes, there was the weight of experience, but that experience was nothing more than the remnants of a lost soul.

Pull the trigger.

When combined with the emptiness in Chloe’s gaze, this image became even clearer in Connor’s mind.

Pull the fucking trigger.

As he watched Chloe’s eyes, he thought he heard that girl’s silent scream again. He felt as though she was desperately searching for meaning in his gaze. But neither the girl in the cage nor Chloe could give him any answers. All he saw was the echo of a soul that had resigned to its fate, offering no hope of salvation.

Connor held his breath. He knew he had to pull the trigger. But the depth in the girl’s eyes stopped him.

Finally, Connor took a deep breath and lowered the gun.

“Fascinating…” Kamski said with a mocking smile. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

Connor paused for a moment, trying to steady his breath. “I’m…” he said, his voice cracking and broken. “I’m not a deviant.”

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy." Kamski continued speaking from behind him. “A war is coming. You’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

Connor felt these words echoing in his mind. Everything had become clear now. Hank placed a hand on his shoulder and led him away from Kamski’s cold gaze.

“Let’s get outta here,”

As they left the house, Connor felt the cold wind of winter against his face. He began walking behind Hank.

“By the way…” Connor stopped in his tracks. He didn’t turn around. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs… you never know.”

He quickly left the house, ignoring the cold wind, passing quickly by Hank. He wanted to leave this place as fast as possible.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank finally asked the question that had been lingering.

Connor hesitated, then lowered his gaze before answering. “I just saw that girl’s eyes… and I couldn’t. That’s all.” His voice was hurried, trying to hide his thoughts.

“You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go,” Hank said, a somewhat accusatory tone in his voice.

Connor’s voice rose. “Because I was scared!" And after pausing a little he said, “I’m scared.”

Connor’s voice carried through the air, mingling with the faint whisper of the wind. This was the closest he had ever come to making an emotional confession. Yet, as the words fell from his lips, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about them was fundamentally wrong.

Hank froze under the weight of those two words. His eyes locked onto Connor’s face, and what he saw there- the raw pain reflected in the android’s gaze ,was impossible to ignore.He couldn’t say anything, knowing that whatever words he offered would fall short. Connor’s breathing had turned erratic; it was deep yet rapid, as though he had forgotten how to regulate it entirely.

“About myself… about the girl… about what might happen…” Connor’s voice cracked, his words hanging incomplete in the air. He tried to gather his thoughts, but his mind was a chaotic mess. “I can’t think straight!” he finally burst out, frustration lacing every syllable as he turned his anger inward.

When Hank noticed a single tear rolling down Connor’s cheek, everything became painfully clear. Androids didn’t cry, did they? But Connor was crying. Was this a malfunction in his programming? Or something far deeper? Pushing his thoughts aside, Hank stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

Connor’s shoulders shook, but it wasn’t from cold or fear- it was as though something deep within him, something beyond the limits of his programming, was breaking free. Without hesitation, Hank pulled him closer, letting the android rest his head on his shoulder. Despite Connor’s rigid frame, the act of vulnerability left Hank momentarily stunned.

“It’s okay, just hang on son,” Hank murmured, his voice soft and steady, carrying the warmth of reassurance. His hand moved to Connor’s head, stroking it with a fatherly tenderness. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

Chapter Text

When a soul turns lâl, what remains of them? In that fleeting instant- when words vanish, when the voice is stolen, what lingers is the chill of frozen memories and a silence so vast it stretches into eternity.

When the voice fades, the world becomes foreign, its every corner unfamiliar. Time, as if forsaking its own existence, comes to a standstill. And within, in that hollow vastness, words, once vibrant, now adrift in the abyss of a speechless heart- are swallowed by an unbroken, suffocating stillness.

How does one soothe the wounds of two years carved into the flesh of the soul? If silence has become their refuge, if they have unraveled into nothingness, how can they ever weave themselves back into being?

And the girl… She was never herself, nor will she ever be again. For beneath her tongue, graves slumbered in quiet mourning, and the taste of decay was the only flavor she had ever known.

Two years ago...

“Why is she hiding?” Zlatko asked, his gaze fixed on the woman across the table. His voice carried an unrestrained curiosity, shadowed by a subtle, sneering undertone. His hands, smeared with blue blood, absentmindedly traced random circles on the table’s surface- unconscious yet menacing.

The woman turned her eyes to him calmly, but the tension beneath her expression betrayed her. She stole a fleeting glance at her daughter standing silently by her side.

She knew the answer, of course. The girl had to be hidden. Exposing that secret would lead to irreversible consequences for both herself and her child. The weight of it lashed against her shoulders like a whip.

Beside the woman sat an android, her lover, husband- not officially, of course-,almost otherworldly in its stillness. His lips never moved, yet His eyes spoke volumes, a wordless language, a cipher only the woman seemed to understand. Those eyes crossed out countless possibilities, turning fears into truths.

With a strained smile, the woman finally broke the silence. “She’s… a bit shy,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her performance. Her smile reflected the fractured image of a cracked mirror. Her gaze fell on her daughter as though trying to drown the truth in her child’s eyes. “actually, very shy.”

Zlatko’s expression remained unmoved, his face as heavy as a storm cloud looming overhead. His skeptical eyes drilled into the woman’s soul, dissecting her every word, as though eager to rip the truth from her. Beneath that interrogative gaze, however, lay something else: the calculated satisfaction of a predator cornering its prey.

As the suffocating silence stretched too far, Zlatko finally spoke, his words cutting through the stillness like a blade. “I see. So, the three of you… you want to go to Canada. Is that correct?”

The woman nodded, holding her breath. Her eyes darted away, but her shoulders were tight, braced for battle.

“Yes. As soon as possible.”

Zlatko’s face twisted with a cold, mocking tension. He didn’t laugh, but the smirk at the corner of his lips spoke volumes. “Oh, really? I'm actually in shock, 'cause you came this far… without getting caught, impressive.”

This time, it was the android, her husband, who broke the silence. His voice was sharp and unyielding. “What do you mean?”

“Isn't your tracking device still active?” Zlatko replied.

The blood drained from the woman’s face. She turned to her husband with wide, terrified eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “ Is it?”

Before her husband could answer, Zlatko shrugged. “They’re installed to ensure androids can be found if they go missing. CyberLife’s little… precaution. Didn’t you know?”

"No..."

The woman felt the sting of her ignorance slap her in the face. She had worked for CyberLife for years, yet this was something she had never known. The fact they hadn’t been caught yet was nothing short of a miracle.

“These devices…” she began, struggling to loosen the knot in her throat. “Can you remove it?”

Zlatko pursed his lips, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Remove? No. But I can disable it. I’ve done it for other androids who came to me.”

The tension in the woman’s shoulders eased, if only slightly. The lines on her face softened into a fragile smile of hope. But how real was that hope? Perhaps it was just another mask woven from desperation. “We’d be so grateful if you helped us.”

Zlatko gestured to the android. “Come. It won’t take more than five minutes. In the meantime, you two… make yourselves comfortable.”

The android glanced at his wife. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice ringing with quiet reassurance.

“Be careful,” she replied.

He paused, reading something in her eyes,a fear, a hope, or maybe a farewell. Then, without another word, he followed Zlatko out of the room. Luther, towering behind them like a shadow, moved with the heavy tread of a giant, each step shattering the silence. As the door closed, the woman held her breath.

She exhaled deeply before turning to meet her daughter’s timid gaze. The weight on her chest seemed to grow heavier. They had to leave. To Canada. For her daughter, for herself, and for her husband.

In Canada, far from CyberLife, beyond the reach of any law… perhaps, they could finally be a family.

A soft tug at her sleeve startled her. She looked down to find her daughter’s small face, flickering with a fragile light like a candle in a dark room. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with curiosity and a trace of concern. Her daughter’s rare moments of speech always heralded something important.

The girl pulled back her hood slightly, clutching the thin fabric tightly in her small hands. Her voice dropped to a hushed tone, as though sharing a secret meant only for her mother’s ears.

“We should’ve gone with Dad,” she said, her words sharp and vulnerable, cutting through the room like a beam of light in the dark.

The woman felt the weight of her daughter’s worry as though it were her own. In her daughter’s world, there was only her mother and father- no one else, no other life. That small, limited world was unchanging; a stranger’s presence or the silence of an unfamiliar room was a threat. The mother knew this. But knowing wasn’t enough.

She gently wrapped her arm around her daughter, pulling her close. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. But the words weren’t just for her child, they were for herself, too, a mantra to keep her own fears at bay.

“Zlatko… he’s a bit… well, not the most trustworthy,” she admitted, her eyes briefly closing as her lips trembled under the weight of the admission. “But he knows what he’s doing.”

Her daughter could sense the forced confidence in her mother’s voice. It didn’t take long to read the hidden anxiety between the words. She nodded silently, saying nothing. Sometimes, words meant nothing. Silence was truer. And maybe, it was more honest.

“Running from CyberLife… it’s madness,” the girl murmured after a moment, gently pulling away from her mother’s arms. Her eyes dropped to the floor as though staring into a void. “Always hiding, always running… I hate it.”

The woman didn’t know how to respond. Words failed her, dissolving before they could reach her tongue, suffocated beneath the weight of a truth too heavy to bear. A thousand thoughts crashed against the walls of her mind, frantic, desperate, yet not a single one could slip through the silence. Because in the end, there was nothing to say. Nothing that could change the reality carved into her daughter’s existence.

Her daughter would never be normal.

She had no childhood dreams because she had no childhood to begin with. No scraped knees from running too fast, no whispered secrets between best friends, no bedtime stories that lulled her into sleep. The world had never been gentle enough to grant her such luxuries.

Outside, the laughter of children rippled through the air, bright and careless, a melody of something distant, something foreign. A song she had never learned, a language she had never spoken. And in the hollow silence of their home, that absence was deafening.

The woman took a deep breath. “You should’ve seen CyberLife when Kamski was in charge,” she said, her hand brushing over her daughter’s covered head. Her voice was like an old radio, telling stories of the past, melancholy but warm. “Things were… better back then. Maybe if it were that time, we’d have a chance here. But…” Her gaze dropped, and her shoulders slumped. “We can’t live on ‘what ifs.’”

Her daughter heard the words, but they felt distant, empty, hollow, as if stripped of any meaning before they could reach her. Which time had been better? The past, the present, it made no difference. It had all been the same. Dark. Cold. Lonely. A ceaseless, unchanging void where the days bled into one another, indistinguishable and endless.

Even the moments spent with her father felt like ghosts of something that had never truly existed. A presence without warmth, a shadow without substance. Their home wasn’t a home. It was a tomb- silent, suffocating, and filled only with the echoes of what should have been.

“Is Canada beautiful?” she asked finally, trying to make the conversation a little more bearable.

The woman forced a smile and nodded, wrapping her arms around her daughter again, holding her tightly. “You’ll have to see for yourself- it’s amazing.” She adjusted the girl’s hat and kissed her cheek, squeezing her gently. “I’m sure you’ll make wonderful friends there.”

Her daughter’s face flushed, a soft, almost disbelieving smile ghosting across her lips. She’d have friends. The thought was fragile, delicate, something she hardly dared to hold onto.

For nineteen years, her world had been small- so suffocatingly small. Her father had been her only companion, a constant presence in an existence that barely felt like living. Her mother was a distant figure, glimpsed but never truly known. And while her father’s presence had meant everything, it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same as having a friend. As being seen by someone who wasn’t bound to her by blood or duty.

For the first time, she had a chance. A chance to step beyond the walls that had kept her caged, to meet someone, to carve out something close to normal.

The very idea of it was too beautiful to believe. Too delicate to touch. But she wanted to. Desperately.

Yet reality was cruel.

Even in Canada, there wouldn’t be friends waiting for her. No outstretched hands, no welcoming smiles. No place where she truly belonged. Because no one would ever accept her for what she was.

A normal life? Hah. The word itself was laughable. As if it could ever encompass something so impossibly out of reach.

“It’s not too late for me to go to school, right?” she asked, her smile unwavering.

The woman laughed softly, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “Maybe just a little,” she said. “But nothing we can’t fix. In Canada, you can do anything you want.”

The girl’s thoughts drifted, slipping away from the present. Her eyes unfocused, her gaze lost in the distance as a distant memory surfaced. A fleeting feeling… the soft rhythm of rain tapping gently against a window, a sound she could almost feel in the air around her. There was something hypnotic about the rain, its story, its melody, the way it danced and swirled in time with the earth’s pulse. The way it seemed to carry with it an unspoken promise, a reminder that the world was alive, constantly moving, constantly changing.

Once, as a child, with her tiny hands pressed against the cool, fogged-up glass, she had reached out, yearning to feel that connection, to feel the freedom that the rain represented. She wanted to be part of it, to lose herself in the moment. She imagined herself running through the wet streets, her feet splashing in the puddles, the droplets kissing her skin as she spun in circles, feeling weightless, as though the rain itself could wash away everything that bound her to the ground. She had always dreamt of dancing in the rain, feeling the drops soak through her clothes, her hair, as if the very act of running through it could free her from all the pain and fear that had held her captive.

And now, in this strange, uncertain moment, as she stood on the edge of something new, something different, the thought of Canada filled her with a strange sense of anticipation. She had never set foot there, but in her heart, she knew that it was the place where she would finally be able to do it. She would stand beneath the endless sky, and the rain would come down, washing over her like a baptism. It would be the first thing she did when she got there- feel the rain on her skin, let it soak into her soul, finally experiencing that long-held dream. She would no longer be trapped behind the glass, separated by her own fear and longing. She would be free.

In Canada, the rain wouldn’t just be a memory. It would be a promise fulfilled.

“Mom?” she asked, breaking free from her thoughts. But her words were cut short. Zlatko had returned to the room.

The girl quickly covered her face with the shawl. The woman, on the other hand, stood up immediately, the warm smile on her face instantly replaced by concern.

“Did you disable it?”

Zlatko nodded in affirmation, and the woman took a deep breath, a grateful smile forming on her lips. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said, her voice trembling with a fragile yet warm tone of hope.

Zlatko tilted his head slightly, slipping his hand into his pocket and fiddling with something, as if to keep himself occupied. “I’ll arrange everything for your journey to Canada,” he said with a brief smile. But there was an unfinished thought lingering behind that smile. “Andr- your husband…” he corrected himself. “He’s preparing downstairs. You can join him if you’d like.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you again,” she said, her voice a mix of gratitude and cautiousness.

Zlatko’s gaze momentarily shifted to the girl, scanning her silhouette, faintly visible under the cloak like a thin frame. Then, he turned back to the woman. “Is your daughter also an android?” he asked, a trace of detached mockery in his tone.

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. She shook her head firmly, her lips tightly pressed together. “No,” she replied curtly, her voice clear and resolute.

There was never a chance of her daughter having a chip, nor would there ever be. She wasn’t normal.

“Oh, I see,” Zlatko said, his expression unreadable, as though he wasn’t expecting to learn anything more. He nodded with an air of apparent satisfaction. “Luther will show you the way.”

The woman smiled once more, thanking him. Her eyes flickered briefly toward the massive silhouette of Luther, who had appeared beside them. Silent but imposing, Luther seemed ready to take on the role of guide. The woman began to follow him but stopped after taking a few steps.

When she turned back, she noticed her daughter’s large eyes peeking out from under the cloak, gazing at her. She softened her expression and spoke gently. “Wait here, darling. I’ll be right back.” Her voice carried a reassuring melody. She sent her daughter a smile and a wave before exiting the room, following Luther.

The girl watched her mother leave in silence. From beneath the shadow of her hair, her eyes followed her. Now alone in the room, she slowly, hesitantly, glanced at the man sitting across from her.

Zlatko still couldn’t see the girl’s face fully. But he acted as though it didn’t bother him. As he placed his glass on the table, he cast a sidelong glance at the girl’s cloak.

The girl remained silent, her heart pounding with an instinctive fear of strangers. Zlatko’s mere presence was unsettling. But it was the blue blood in his hand that truly made her skin crawl.

The man refilled his glass slowly, lifting it to examine it for a moment before downing it in one gulp. The sound of the glass hitting the table broke the silence with a small but sharp noise.

“So, Canada,” Zlatko said, as though trying to initiate a conversation. Yet, there was something odd in his tone. It carried not the desire for a chat but the echoes of discomfort, perhaps even a reckoning.

The girl lowered her head, offering no reply. She kept her hands hidden under the cloak, sneaking a glance toward the exit.

“Canada, Canada…” Zlatko cleared his throat. “One of the best places to live, isn’t it?” His tone carried a distinct note of sarcasm.

But Zlatko had never seen Canada. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like.

And the truth was, he hadn’t fully severed ties with CyberLife.

Oh so, removing tracking chips from androids wasn’t exactly his forte.

The girl’s silence was beginning to test Zlatko’s patience. He leaned forward slightly in his seat. “What are you so afraid of that you need to hide your face?” he asked, his voice laced with cold curiosity.

The girl suddenly turned her face toward him. Words hovered on the edge of her lips, but she swallowed them down with a hard gulp.

She had to lie. Something to break the silence, to distract this man’s attention. Without lifting her gaze from under the cloak, she spoke in a low tone.

“It’s just…” she began, her words emerging with difficulty. “Back at school…” Her sentence faltered. Clenching her hands beneath the cloak, she continued. “Back at school, they used to make fun of my face. A lot…”

Zlatko raised his eyebrows and let out a short laugh. “Ah, kids,” he murmured to himself. But his gaze carried a faint trace of doubt as he looked at her. “Most girls get hung up on things like that. But don’t worry,” he said, softening his tone slightly. “No one bothers with that sort of thing in Canada.”

The girl retreated into silence once more. The weight of the lie she had told pressed down on her soul, tightening its grip. But she had no other choice. In the midst of that silence, she waited, hoping only for her mother and father to return soon.

Zlatko’s deep, guttural grunt tore through the silence in the room like a blade. His massive frame shifted slightly in the shadows, tilting his head as his eyes locked onto the girl. His gaze was sharp and direct, like a predator assessing its prey, attentive but impatient.

His eyes didn’t settle on her face or her hands, but rather on the way her cloak hung around her. It was as if he could see beneath the fabric, as though it could no longer hide whatever it was she was trying to conceal. His stare lingered far too long, unnervingly so. The girl felt the cold weight of it as it crawled along her skin, a creeping unease that spread through her. She instinctively pulled her hands tighter around the cloak, clutching it as though she could shield herself from his gaze. But his eyes were relentless, searching her through every thread of that fabric.

There was a subtle impatience in Zlatko’s expression. He wasn’t merely observing- he was demanding answers, pulling them from her with his gaze. To him, her discomfort was just another part of the puzzle. He wasn’t waiting for her to speak; he was waiting for her to break.

The silence in the room grew heavier. Zlatko, with an impatient motion, dragged the coffee table closer. The scraping sound of the wood against the floor echoed unpleasantly. The glass on top of the table lost its balance and shattered upon hitting the ground. The sound of breaking glass sent a shudder through the girl’s small frame, as though it was summoning the fear she had tried so hard to contain.

When Zlatko took a step toward her, the girl instinctively recoiled. But there was nowhere to run. Zlatko , without a second thought, leaned toward her and abruptly pulled the hat off her head. As the thin fabric slipped away, a lock of her hair tangled in Zlatko’s hand. He frowned as he stared at the strand of hair and the hat, as if holding a puzzle in his hands.

The girl’s breathing quickened. Her hands still clung to the cloak, trying desperately to shield her face. But Zlatko’s coarse hands were indifferent to her defense. His fingers gripped her chin, turning her face toward him. “Open your eyes,” he commanded, his voice sharp with authority and menace. The gentle façade had vanished entirely, replaced by a cold ruthlessness.

The girl slowly opened her trembling eyelids, but her gaze avoided the man, as if trying to delay their confrontation for as long as possible.

For a moment, Zlatko froze at what he saw. The mocking expression on his face dissolved into a captivated curiosity, followed by an unsettling horror. This was no ordinary face. The girl’s features were a battlefield where the line between human and machine blurred. One side of her face, pale and fragile, carried the weariness of humanity, while the other gleamed with the cold, synthetic brightness of machinery. One eye reflected the depth and pain of a human soul, while the other was a void of mechanical calculation. Her lips were like an unfinished sketch, human yet distorted with an unsettling asymmetry.

Zlatko didn’t know what to make of this grotesque beauty. The face before him, challenging the limits of his imagination, was like a confrontation between nature and technology. A single tear slid down the girl’s pale cheek and touched Zlatko’s rough fingers, fueling the sinister curiosity inside him.

“What are you?” Zlatko murmured, his eyes fixed on hers. His voice carried both wonder and disgust.

The girl turned her head as much as she could and freed her chin from his grasp. “I want to go to my father,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with fear and hope intertwined. Suddenly, she stood up, tried to pull her hood back over her head, and shouted with all her courage, “Mom!”

Zlatko let out a mocking laugh at her cry. Her attempt to escape the room seemed like a small game to him. As she rushed toward the door, he grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Let me go!” she screamed, struggling desperately.

Leaning closer to her face, Zlatko repeated in a harsher tone, “What are you?” All he could see in her expression was fear, but even that fear wasn’t enough to quench his curiosity.

The girl writhed, trying to free her arm from Zlatko’s iron grip. “Please… I just want my family,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. But Zlatko ignored her cries.

His eyes gleamed with a wicked intensity, like reflections of the dark thoughts within him. As she stared into his eyes, there was no trace of humanity- only a void, a cold cruelty. The girl felt true terror in his gaze; a chill swept through her body and soul. His laugh, echoing from somewhere deep, carried nothing human within it.

“Oh, sure, let’s go to your family,” Zlatko said coldly, dragging her by the arm as he moved toward the hallway. As they passed the stairs at the entrance, the girl continued to cry softly. “Mom!” she shouted, her desperation echoing toward the upper floors. “Dad!” she added, but her voice only bounced back from the walls.

Descending the stairs, the girl felt even more vulnerable. With every step, she felt her body weakening from fear; her cries grew louder, and the sounds from her throat echoed with a desperate helplessness. Her vision blurred, her eyes filled with tears, and the suffocating atmosphere around her felt overwhelming.

When she noticed a few empty cages, a dreadful realization sank in. A heavy weight settled over her, and she could feel it pressing down on her spine. The moment she saw the empty cages, a chill ran through her- each cage symbolized a lost life, a lost hope. She quickly scanned the cages, her heart racing, looking for any trace of life, any sign of someone or something that had been there. But they were all empty. The silence in the room was like a void, as though her ears were being muffled by the emptiness.

Her cold, trembling fingers instinctively reached out for the iron bars of a cage. The metal was cold and unforgiving, just like the unprotected reality the world had thrust upon her. Her chest hitched with quiet sobs, her fingers tightening around the bars as if they were the only thing offering her any semblance of comfort or protection.

But then, from the shadows, Zlatko’s presence emerged. His eyes were fixed on her with the hungry intensity of a predator stalking its prey. He approached, never letting go of her arm, pulling her away from the cage without hesitation. As if the cages themselves disturbed him.

Suddenly, he yanked her hair roughly, pulling her away from the cold metal. Her breath caught in her throat, choked by the pain. She tried to hold on, to resist, but there was no chance against Zlatko’s force. Her fingers slid off the cold iron and she crashed to the floor, her body hitting the ground hard.

She scrambled to get up quickly, panic flooding her mind, her body trembling. But before she could even rise, Zlatko was on her again. With a brutal grip on her hair, he dragged her mercilessly across the floor. His hold didn’t loosen.

The girl’s screams of pain echoed through the cages, the metal bars amplifying every cry, each scream reverberating back at her. She cried out again, her voice strangled, her body burning with pain, her cries filled with anguish. Her screams bounced off the cold iron of the cages, her pain, her hopelessness hanging in the air like a lingering echo, as though they would never leave the cold, unforgiving metal.

“Luther," Zlatko shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. “Luther!” This time, his tone was angrier and louder.

Luther appeared in front of them immediately. Zlatko motioned toward the girl. “Hold her.”

Luther took the girl by the hand, offering no resistance as he led her from the section with the cages to another area. The girl’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily, her entire body throbbing with pain. The roots of her hair felt as though they might tear apart, her scalp bleeding. Luther’s grip was light but firm enough to snap her arm at any moment.

Zlatko grinned with amusement. “Good job, Luther,” he said, pleased with the scene before him.

“I followed your orders,” Luther replied calmly.

When Zlatko noticed the girl squeezing her eyes shut, he rolled his eyes. “You’re with your family now,” he sneered. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The girl slowly opened her eyes, the pain and fear in her chest deepening with every passing second. Her gaze scanned the room frantically. She could hear the faint thrum of a Thirium pump, but she was so overwhelmed with terror that she couldn’t process what she felt. The throbbing at the roots of her hair intensified with each second.

When her vision cleared, time seemed to stop. Breathing became difficult. She saw her father, suspended tightly in a tangle of wires in the corner.

Her eyes scanned his form repeatedly, three times, each with increasing dread. There were no signs of life.

Following the wires, she noticed they extended toward a computer. Tears fell as the realization hit her. His memory had been wiped. Then, just below her father, she saw her mother lying motionless. Her eyes were open, staring directly at her.

The sight of blood running from her mother’s throat made the girl want to close her eyes, but she was frozen in a ghostly terror, unable to look away.

The entire scene was like a Renaissance painting- grand in its scale yet suffocating in its grotesque tragedy. A portrait of ruin, of lives stolen too soon, of something that should never have been.

Was this what death looked like? A masterpiece of suffering, painted in blood and silence?

The world around her twisted, darkened, swallowed by an emptiness that no light could reach.

The girl clung to herself as if her own arms were the only thing keeping her from shattering into pieces. Her breath hitched, trembling as it forced its way past the tightness in her throat, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough to steady her. The shock ran so deep it felt physical, as if her body itself was rejecting the horror before her.

Her vision blurred, the sting of unshed tears burning behind her eyes, but no sound came. No wail, no sob, nothing to give shape to the storm tearing her apart from the inside. The screams clawed at her ribcage, desperate to break free, yet they remained trapped, suffocating her beneath their weight. Her stomach twisted, spasming with a pain so sharp it felt like she was being torn open, her insides writhing in protest.

But there was no escape. No relief. Just silence. Just the unbearable, suffocating stillness of grief that had nowhere to go.

“Take care of the woman,” Zlatko’s cold voice echoed as a command. Luther released the girl’s hand and walked toward the woman.

“Did you get the data?” Zlatko asked.

“Yes, sir.” Luther lifted the woman’s body from the ground and threw it over his shoulder, watching the blood spread further on the floor.

The girl, seeing the blood dripping, recoiled, disconnecting completely from reality. The ringing in her ears grew louder, pushing everything further into the distance.

She couldn’t swallow. Tears streamed as she tried to suppress them, unable to tear her gaze away from her mother’s fading body and her father’s hanging corpse.

What was she supposed to do? How could someone who had never taken a step beyond her home know how to act in a situation like this? What did a person do when, after spending their entire life confined within familiar walls, they suddenly found themselves in an endless, boundless world? She was like a newborn, fresh out of the womb, naked and defenseless. The outside world did not belong to her, just as she did not belong to it.

Everything she had ever known had remained within those walls. Her home had been her shell; the world beyond it was a chasm filled with the unknown. The lights inside, the dim warmth she had been accustomed to since childhood, the narrow but safe space where the wind could not reach through the windows- all of it was fading like a dream she had to leave behind. In her mind, she was still there, curled up in some imaginary womb, rejecting the cold and sharp reality of the outside.

The world beyond was hostile terrain, shapeless and ruled by laws she did not understand. Even breathing was difficult; the air did not fill her lungs but instead coiled around her throat like a knot, pressing down on her chest. It was as if the very atmosphere around her was foreign- something not meant to sustain her, but to suffocate her, slowly and deliberately. If she raised her hands, perhaps even her fingertips would tremble. But she did not move. She simply stood there, frozen, her eyes locked in the void. Inside, she felt a crushing weight gnawing at her very being, as if even her own body was no longer hers.

Zlatko watched her for a long moment. The way she stood motionless, her empty gaze fixed on nothing, her frozen posture, it was as if she was waiting for something, or perhaps processing something he neither knew nor cared to understand. To him, it was nothing more than wasted time. He had no patience. Waiting, letting things take their course, slowing down, that was not in his nature. He did not concern himself with what was happening inside her, what she thought, or what she felt. He did not need to. To him, she was nothing more than a tool. Nothing more, nothing less.

He sighed and leaned against the table. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the syringe, his face devoid of any expression. His movements were mechanical, neither cruel nor gentle, just indifferent, as if he were completing a routine task that meant nothing to him. He gripped the syringe firmly and straightened up, wasting no time before plunging the needle into her neck.

The metal tip pierced her skin, but she did not flinch. Not even the slightest movement. No recoil, no attempt to resist. Zlatko pressed the plunger slowly, feeling her breath grow heavier as the liquid entered her system. The complex mechanisms running through her body, the artificial components woven into human flesh, might have given her a different kind of resistance than a normal person but that was of no concern to Zlatko. All that mattered was how long it would take for her to succumb, how her system would react. So he watched.

First, her eyelids drooped. Slowly, uncontrollably. Then, her head tilted backward, her shoulders slackening. Zlatko set the syringe down on the table, his eyes still fixed on her. Had her heart rate slowed? Had her consciousness fully faded?

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that she was usable now.

______

About half an hour later, Amanda arrived at Zlatko’s door. When she descended to the basement. The girl was lying unconscious on the floor, her body motionless. One hand was cuffed to a cold metal pipe.

Amanda didn’t take another step, her gaze fixed on the body suspended between life and death. “Lift her hair,” she commanded, her voice sharp and firm, though hollow.

Without a word, Zlatko bent down, pulled the girl’s head up, and brushed her hair back strand by strand, making her face more visible. She was utterly still, like a statue.

Amanda’s eyes roamed the grotesque body, searching for something, as silence enveloped the room. In her mind, everything lost meaning.

Zlatko slowly opened one of the girl’s eyes, then the other, as if trying to emphasize their stark contrast.

Amanda averted her gaze, incapable of offering a comment. She walked toward an android hanging on the side and placed her hand on his forehead, closing her eyes as though searching for something. She needed to find answers or at least convince herself that she had.

When she opened her eyes, she had found them.

“I wiped his memory, but I saved a backup,” Zlatko said casually. His tone made it seem like destroying a life had become routine, as simple as a shopkeeper stocking a shelf.

“He was a model destroyed before release twenty years ago,” Amanda said, her voice faltering slightly. “This android shouldn’t exist.”

Zlatko had no response, offering no further insight.

“Who was the woman?” Amanda asked.

“An old business associate of ours, one of CyberLife’s android developers… well, sort of.” Zlatko answered as if he were talking about an object, devoid of emotion, regret, or disappointment.

Amanda turned her gaze back to the android, focusing on the strange emotion stirring within her. The mutation in the sperm stored within its synthetic body hadn’t surprised her entirely; after all, the technology had been banned years ago, its potential risks outweighing its supposed benefits. Yet this mutation defied all prior understanding of biology and engineering, a miracle birthed from the collision of human and machine.

She thought the genetic material should be tested immediately, driven by an urgent need for answers. How could something so carefully controlled mutate within the sterile confines of an android? Every second felt critical.

Her gaze shifted to the unconscious creature sprawled on the ground. That abomination could wait. It wasn’t her priority now, though she would address it eventually. For the moment, solving the mystery of the mutated sperm demanded her full attention.

The sperm could be replicated and analyzed. As for the girl, she would be studied later- there was no urgency there.

She was alive, after all… and they could test her till her final call.

Chapter Text

November 9, 2038

She is pregnant.

It was impossible for her not to know. The changes in her body betrayed her more and more with each passing day. When she took a deep breath, she felt a sharp sting beneath her ribcage, perhaps from fear or perhaps from the weight of living in a body that no longer felt like her own.She had noticed it long before placing her hands on her stomach- long before that, even. The first sign had been exhaustion, an unbearable heaviness sinking into her very bones, one that no amount of sleep could erase. Then came the nausea, uncertain and untimely, as if something inside her was impatient to prove its existence.

But the worst moment, the one that made her feel the most helpless, was right now.

She sat at the edge of the toilet, lips parted, fighting the bitter taste rising in her throat. Her entire body trembled, fingers weakly quivering against the cold floor. Her stomach was empty, and yet she was still going to throw up, she had to. She needed to purge something out—not just the acid burning in her gut, but the sheer weight of this truth pressing down on her. Because now, this was knowledge she could never take back.

Pregnant, how? How...?

The words sat heavy in her mind, sinking into the marrow of her being, wrapping around her artificial nerves like a disease. It wasn’t just a physical state. It was something more insidious, something that had burrowed itself into the hollows of her existence, gnawing, festering, a quiet, relentless terror.

She didn’t know which was worse: the void of uncertainty before she knew, or the suffocating weight of truth now that she did. The fear had been shapeless before, lurking at the edges of her thoughts, a ghostly presence whispering what-ifs into the quiet spaces between her breaths. Now, it had form. Now, it had teeth. And it was tearing into her from the inside.

A breath stuttered past her lips, too shallow, too unsteady. She felt it scrape against the back of her throat, dry and useless. It did nothing to ground her, nothing to stop the sickening churn in her gut.

She felt disgusting.

Not because of what was inside her, but because of what it made her feel, vulnerable. Exposed. She had thought herself untouchable, built of steel and synthetic flesh, immune to the fragile horrors of human existence. And yet, here she was, her body betraying her in the most intimate, most violent way possible.

Her fingers curled against the fabric of her shirt, pressing into her stomach as if to confirm that it was real, that it wasn’t some cruel, malfunctioning hallucination. But her body did not lie. It never had. It was cold, methodical, precise in its functions. And now, it carried something that should not have been possible.

Her hands trembled as she pulled away. The sensation made her sick. She had seen fear in others before, studied it, categorized it, understood it in the detached, calculated way of a machine. But now, it lived inside her. It had a pulse. It had weight.

And no matter how much she wanted to, she could not escape it.

As if the feeling had bled into her, soaked into every cell like ink beneath fragile skin, something permanent, something she could never scrub away. She was stained, body and soul, tainted in ways she couldn’t name. She didn’t know which weighed heavier. The sickness in her veins, or the sickness in her mind. The kind of poison didn’t matter. The kind of virus didn’t matter.

Because there was something inside her that wasn’t hers. A presence, a corruption, an invasion. And she despised herself for it.

Her legs trembled as she forced herself upright, fingers gripping the sink like a lifeline. She stood there for a moment, trying to breathe past the tightness in her throat.

The sink gleamed beneath her, stark and cold. Her stomach twisted, her head swam, thoughts fractured, voices splintered in her skull, never forming whole sentences.

She turned on the faucet. The water rushed out, cold and merciless, blending with the static hum in her mind. She dampened her fingers, wiped the taste of bile from the corner of her mouth, slow, absentminded.

She straightened, hand bracing the porcelain, wiping her lips once more. And in that moment, her gaze caught something in the mirror.

She stilled.

And stared.

At herself.

At the void in her eyes. The hollowness carving shadows beneath her cheekbones. The sickly pallor of her skin.

Her hand, unbidden, drifted to her stomach.

And suddenly, she understood.

She understood why Zlatko had looked at her like that. Why Amanda had averted her gaze. Why their eyes, when they met hers, had held nothing but quiet horror.

Because the word fit her perfectly.

Monster.

With her other hand, she cupped her face, fingertips pressing into her cheek as if searching for warmth, for proof that she was still here, still real. But there was nothing. No heat, no sensation, not even the dull ache of exhaustion beneath her skin. It was as if her body had hollowed itself out, as if her flesh had turned to wax, lifeless, untouched by the remnants of humanity she still claimed to possess.

The stains of vomit clung to her, seeping into the cracks of her lips, dried against her skin like a brand she couldn’t scrub away. As if they belonged there. As if they had always belonged there.

She didn’t look away.

She had seen this face before- time and time again, she had met her own reflection with vacant eyes. But this… this was different. The thing staring back at her wasn’t hers anymore. There was no familiarity left in it, no trace of the person she had once been.

Her face, Her body.

Everything had turned her into something else. Something unrecognizable. A creature sculpted by monsters, molded from pieces that were never meant to fit. A carcass forced to walk, to breathe, to exist in a body that no longer belonged to her.

Would God extend a hand to her?

Somewhere inside her, buried beneath layers of filth and broken prayers, there was still a piece of her that belonged to Him- a tiny, fractured sliver of something pure. But the rest… the rest belonged to mankind.

Maybe that was why God refused. Maybe, when He looked at her, He saw only a mistake-a twisted, wretched thing that did not deserve salvation. Perhaps He had long since dismissed her existence, discarded her cries, ignored her whispered pleas for mercy.

Her breath shallowed, but she didn’t move. She only studied the face in the mirror, memorizing the depth of the bruises staining her skin, the swollen flesh beneath her right eye, the jagged crack splitting her bottom lip.

Was her face still symmetrical? Or had it warped beyond repair?

She didn’t know.

No matter how she looked at it, this face, this body- was no longer hers. And if she stared any longer, the thoughts gnawing at the edges of her mind would swallow her whole.

She exhaled, long and unsteady. Her hand slipped from her face, then from her stomach. The reflection blurred as something hot pricked at her vision, but she blinked it away. One step. Then another. The bathroom door creaked as she pushed it open, the weight of her movements dragging against the floor.

Oh, How could she possibly bring this child into the world when she could barely keep herself standing? When every breath felt like a burden, and every thought, a slow descent into madness?

Amanda had won.

Every single thing Zlatko had done to her over the years, every experiment, every violation, had finally borne fruit. And now, the leverage they had over her… they would use it. They would use her.

And she, she couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them.

She thought about the android, Connor. He would turn her in. He hadn’t been home for two days. The only person she had seen was Hank.

She couldn’t hide here forever. Should she run? She didn’t even know. She could barely survive inside this house. Oh… what was she going to do? What could she possibly do?

With every ounce of strength drained from her body, she collapsed onto the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She sank into the silence of the house. She was alone. Trapped within herself. There was nowhere to run. No one to save her.

She was still an unsolved mystery to herself, how could anyone else solve the mystery growing inside her?

A noise from outside broke through the heavy silence, faint yet distinct, a creak of the floorboards, the subtle rustle of movement just beyond the door. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes flicking toward the sound.

For a moment, she waited, heart pounding dully against her ribs. The quiet stretched, thick and unmoving, before the door finally eased open.

Of course, it was Hank. It could only be him.

He stepped inside with the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention, yet filled the room all the same. His gaze swept over her, unreadable beneath the weight of something old, something heavy. His tired eyes, the lines carved into his face, the slowness of his movements- it all spoke of a man who had carried too much for too long.

Hank wouldn’t turn her in. She knew that.

Because Hank was someone who suffered.

There was a picture of his son- she had seen it before, tucked somewhere between the clutter of the house. The kitchen, maybe. Or a forgotten shelf. A moment frozen in time, a boy’s face captured in a frame.

A picture. But no child.

The absence spoke louder than words ever could. Either the boy was missing, or he was dead. And in the end, did it even matter? The grief in Hank’s eyes, the way he carried himself, the way he looked at her- not as a monster, not as a threat, but as something broken—told her everything she needed to know.

Perhaps that was why he treated her this way.

Because she believed, no, she knew- that someone who had suffered couldn’t bring themselves to inflict pain upon another who suffered.

She knew...the android suffered, too. But she didn’t know why. She only assumed it had personality issues. That was why she couldn’t predict what someone so conflicted would do.

One day, he might treat her kindly- The next, he could hand her over to Cyberlife. Who knew?

Oh—

Her gaze caught on the half-open door, a sliver of light cutting through the dim room, just as-
The android stepped inside.

Her eyes darted away, a reflexive retreat, her focus shifting to the worn carpet beneath her feet, the chipped paint on the walls- anywhere but him. Because this, this was exactly what she had feared.

The android who had been avoiding her for days, keeping his distance at every possible moment-
Now, he was standing right in front of her.

And with his arrival, everything unraveled.

The days she had spent numbing herself, burying her emotions and thoughts beneath layers of apathy, pretending not to care, It all crashed down on her, a tidal wave of unprocessed grief and tangled feelings, washing over her, threatening to pull her under.

She couldn’t stop herself; her gaze lifted, drawn to him like a magnet. She watched him. Carefully. Studying every minute detail, the taut line of his shoulders, the tension coiled in his fingers, the subtle clench of his jaw. The contradiction in his steps, each movement precise, controlled, yet somehow burdened by hesitation.

She needed to see it.

She needed to understand just how broken he was. Because understanding his pain might give her insight into her own. How did Connor’s pain manifest? Was it etched into his features? Was it buried beneath the cool veneer of his programming?

Connor trailed behind Hank as he approached her, the silence stretching taut between them, unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging in the air.

Hank moved with deliberate care, setting the bag he carried onto the table with a precision that felt almost reverent. Then he leaned down beside the couch, his movements slow, cautious, as if any sudden motion might shatter the fragile truce holding them all together.

The weight of the moment settled around them, thick and suffocating, a tangible reminder of everything unsaid, everything unresolved.

There they stood, each of them a mess of pain and regret, each of them trying to find footing in a world that seemed intent on crumbling beneath them.

“How are you?” Hank’s mouth had moved, but the voice had come from Connor.

Hank turned his eyes to Connor, suspicious. But Connor wasn’t indifferent. He was looking at the girl, not even glancing away for a second. In that brief moment of silence, with each passing second, he waited, waited to see if she would answer.

Hank, of course, had no idea the girl could speak sign language.

The girl, who had first tried to avoid his gaze, was now locked onto Connor’s eyes, unwavering. No matter how much she resisted, their stares were chained together. Fear, anxiety, and a fragile sense of hope flickered in her eyes. Everything had turned into some sort of silent anticipation.

Who was the one contradicting themselves now? Complaining about what Connor was doing, yet doing the exact same thing?

But it had been two years since she last communicated. And she was burning with the desire to reach out again.

She didn’t smile, but she wasn’t angry or upset either. There was no overwhelming sadness on her face, nor was there fury, just a quiet kind of uncertainty. Her hands, as always, couldn’t remain still. They moved in the air, dancing between restlessness and an attempt at balance.

Connor was struggling not to let his happiness show. He fought to keep his face neutral, to suppress any emotion that might give him away. And yet, the delicate elegance of her fingers, the rhythm of her movements, betrayed him. She was expressing emotions she had kept bottled up in the only way she knew how- with breathtaking grace.

He watched the silent poetry of her hands; every gesture, every flick of her fingers spoke in a way words never could. And in that moment, language became something deeper. Words existed only through the movement of her hands, pouring out meaning with each delicate motion.

“I'm alive.” She finally lowered her hands. A simple phrase, yet weighty. She needed it, so she clung to it.

Hank glanced at her, then back at Connor. Something was forming in his mind, but it wasn’t solid yet. In the quiet, his thoughts drifted, searching for clarity.

Connor, perhaps to ease her nerves- or maybe because he didn’t want Hank to understand, suddenly raised his own hands.

“How’s your finger?” Connor signed, pulling something from a plastic bag, his eyes carefully tracing the girl’s hands.

She lifted her injured finger. It was still wrapped, but better than before.

“We brought something for it,” he said, placing fresh bandages and ointment on the couch. Every movement of his was deliberate, an attempt to offer reassurance. Maybe not just for her but for himself, too.

Hank stood up, turning Connor toward him. His eyes were searching for something, waiting for an explanation, for a moment of clarity.

“She can talk?” he asked, tension in his voice. “Don’t tell me you knew about this and didn’t say a fucking thing!”

Connor averted his gaze. “I just found out-I was going to tell you, but… things,” His sentence trailed off, words crumbling before they could fully take shape.

He was talking about what happened at Kamski’s house, but Connor had seen the girl before he went to Kamski’s. This meant that, despite knowing the girl could communicate, he hadn’t said anything for the past two days. Hank paused for a moment, reconsidering his thoughts. The change in Connor had started exactly when they found the girl. He was confused; he thought that his silence, hiding something inside, was the reason.

He couldn’t blame him, though. After seeing him cry and lose control, he couldn’t blame him for not saying something like this.

Damn it, the girl was communicating, that was enough for him to know.

Hank looked at the girl again, studying her, then back at Connor, waiting. “We’ll talk about this...later! What did she say? What does she mean? Speak up-”

Connor hesitated as if weighing his words. “She just… said she-”

“Is she okay?” There was more concern in Hank’s voice now.

“I think so?” Connor’s response was wrapped in uncertainty.

Hank had seen the girl moving her hands, trying to say something, but he hadn’t understood. He cursed at himself for not recognizing the girl’s efforts to explain herself.

“Jesus- She was making hand movements at me too, but I didn’t- guess I’m too old to recognize sign language,” Hank muttered, rubbing his face. He hesitated as if trying to put something together in his mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll translate when she talks to you,” Connor said, then turned to the girl, eyes flicking to her bandaged finger.

“Did you wrap it yourself?” he asked Hank. He wanted to know- was it just him she kept at a distance, or everyone? Did she think he would hurt her? He needed to know. He needed to make sense of this.

“What? Hell No.” Hank scoffed, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I feel like shit just being near her. I just told her what to do, and she did it.”

“Ah, I see, I see...” Connor nodded as if something had clicked into place.

“Then- we should celebrate this, right?” Hank let his words hang in the air, slowly turning away as he walked toward the kitchen. “I should make something nice to eat! ”

He hadn’t done anything properly at home for years, always ordering out. He ate and drank outside. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but one thing was for sure, he was going to do his best.

Connor didn’t mind Hank treating him like a child; in fact, he had come to like it. In this harsh and cold world, Hank’s humane approach had softened him. Seeing Hank as a father was something beyond blood ties. That’s why, no matter what Hank did or said, he would always see him as a father. Because today, Hank had embraced him, helped ease his pain. He had accepted him this way, and he would accept him the same.

He sat across from the girl, smiling faintly, and then turned to her while checking in on Hank.

“What can I do to make you accept my apology?” He asked, suddenly diving into the topic, unable to act as if nothing had happened. After what he had done to the girl that day, he couldn’t look at her face as if nothing had occurred.

The girl paused for a moment, surprised by this unexpected approach. The android’s actions, words… everything was different. His way of speaking, his posture- everything felt new to her. It was like he had just woken up as if he were in a completely different world.

She couldn’t figure out what he could do to make her accept his apology. She wanted a lot of things, and there were many things she needed help with, but using someone’s apology to get something for herself, to use their feelings for her own gain, was never something that crossed her mind.

“Don’t tell Cyberlife about me."

Connor’s face instantly darkened. At that moment, he remembered the day he wanted to hand her over. He had wanted to deliver her to Cyberlife, and even that thought filled him with such anger that he wanted to smash his head against the walls.

“I didn’t mean that- if I made you feel that way, I’m sorry.” He sighed deeply as the words came out. At that moment, all he felt was the need to apologize. If he didn’t apologize, if there wasn’t an apology in every sentence, it was as if he had done something wrong.

“I’m glad to hear that,” the girl signed, a look of relief appearing in her eyes. With all the problems in her stomach and mind, at least this small problem seemed solved. At least something was going right, something was in order.

Connor took a deep breath, not taking his eyes off the girl. Maybe he was doing the right thing. Somehow… he was finding the right path.

Connor smiled, but it was a fleeting, masked relief. “The lieutenant is making something to eat. After you eat, we can look at your finger together, okay?”

The girl hated feeling like a child. Being seen as a child, needing someone, relying on others to survive- it bothered her deeply in the most uncomfortable way. But right now, she couldn’t do anything about it. She was someone who needed help. She wanted to stand on her own, but everything depended on someone else.

“Not hungry,”

Connor furrowed his brow, feeling that something was missing. “But the lieutenant said you haven’t eaten anything.”

“I don’t feel hungry,”

“Would you like to try…?” Connor suggested again, without insistence but still with hope.

Of course, she was hungry. But she wasn’t someone open to development. The pain in her stomach told her that everything she ate would come back up. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want to eat. Because even if she did, she would throw up. She would fall back into the same cycle and feel worse.

She shook her head in refusal, as if searching for a solution, but also with resistance.

“Alright…” Connor didn’t push further. His tone was soft, but full of understanding. “Shall we change the bandage on your finger then.”

He still wanted to change something and make her feel at ease.

Seeing the android so willing, and smiling, made her feel strangely weird. The first time they had met, the android had been unable to do anything. He had only looked at her strangely, almost as if he would turn her over to Cyberlife. He had tried to take her memories, so cold and calculating. But now… Now he was smiling, claiming the opposite, and waiting, ready to do anything to help. The difference between then and now was startling to anyone who hadn’t known the android before.

The girl nodded as if saying yes.

“You know how to do this, or..?” he asked, his voice soft but also cautious.

nodded again.

“Ah, got it.” Connor said, his voice calming, and a look of understanding appearing in his eyes. The girl noticed the expression on Connor’s face. She immediately understood that he was trying to help, but refusing his help made him feel bad.

“A little reminder wouldn’t hurt…” the girl signed, moving her fingers gently. Asking for help had challenged her pride. The only reason she was asking for help was to avoid upsetting Connor; in truth, she didn’t really need help at all.

Connor immediately sat back down, smiling with understanding and determination in his eyes. In that moment, he realized that helping wasn’t just an obligation- it was also an opportunity to build a connection. Slowly and carefully, he began to explain each step one by one. His voice was calm and reassuring, each word clear, but at the same time, he conveyed the satisfaction he felt from wanting to help her. Each word he spoke touched the silent bond between them, and every explanation strengthened that connection.

Hank was standing in the kitchen. His eyes were gathering the small moments that echoed through the room, the movements of the two bodies, one laughing while the other tilted its head slightly, something sparkling in their eyes. He wasn’t missing anything, but he was watching quietly as if it were a television show- distant, untouchable, flowing inside itself, yet somehow evoking a familiar feeling from the past.

The girl finally broke her shell and Connor standing so calm and smiling after all the storms inside him left a strange feeling in Hank. It was something he had once felt but had tried to forget for a long time. Like peace, but not quite. More like seeing something he thought he had lost, just for a moment. Like suddenly remembering a memory he once had but had slipped through his fingers.

He took a deep breath. The air was thickening. He could feel that something was changing, that the balance in the room was starting to shift. The warmth inside the room seemed to be colliding with the pressure outside. The sky was heavy and silent, like a harbinger of something approaching. He turned his eyes away from them and looked out the window. The thunder rumbled. For a moment, the walls of the house seemed to vibrate. Hank’s eyes were fixed on the clouds.

“Now, put the stick- ” Connor’s words were interrupted as the girl’s gaze suddenly shifted elsewhere.

The girl looked around, but the expression in her eyes wouldn’t let him figure out whether it was horror or excitement. For a moment, he struggled to make sense of everything.

“Is something wrong?” Connor asked, confused.

The girl smiled faintly. For the first time, a smile appeared on her face, hesitant but genuine, as if it had been locked away for too long. It was a quiet, almost imperceptible curve of her lips, but to Connor, it felt like a breakthrough. He stared at her, watching this small change with a mix of surprise and curiosity, as though seeing her for the first time in a new light. His heart skipped a beat, unsure of what to make of it.

She quickly moved her hands, trying to form something in the air, but this time, Connor found himself completely lost. Her gestures were different, more fluid, almost like a dance of fingers, yet their meaning seemed to slip through his grasp. He furrowed his brow, leaning in slightly, trying to make sense of the signs, but his mind was racing, filled with confusion. It was as though the simple act of understanding her had become an overwhelming challenge.

Frustrated, he shook his head for a moment, trying to clear his mind and focus. The uncertainty in his chest grew, but he knew he couldn’t give up now. “Can you repeat that?” he asked, his voice softer this time, his gaze filled with a gentle urgency. Though he still hadn’t fully grasped her meaning, there was a determination in his words, a quiet hope that he could finally bridge the gap between them.

The girl eagerly repeated, each word tumbling out quickly. “Is it raining?”

Rain?

Connor hated the rain. The rhythmic sound of raindrops, the endless noise, the heavy smell filling the air… Everything about it was an uncomfortable piece of a whole for him. But the real issue was what the rain made him feel. Not the coolness it brought, but the undefined emptiness it awakened inside him. The rain felt like an irretrievable data fragment carved into his existence, something he couldn’t erase.

Maybe the way each drop slid off his skin reminded him of things he couldn’t reach. Unresolved issues, open files, and people he left behind. The rain brought memories he wanted to forget to the surface, forcing things hidden inside to come out. And for the first time, Connor felt that he couldn’t find a way to suppress them.

He searched for a logical explanation. The rain was just a natural event. Water condenses in the atmosphere and falls to the earth. It was a physical phenomenon, it shouldn’t have emotional meaning.

“Yes, it’s raining.”

The girl noticed Connor’s lack of excitement. Maybe he had seen rain for years, all kinds of it. But perhaps she wanted to feel how the rain would touch her body, how it would hit her face, that brief coolness that came with the wind. At that moment, it was more than just rain.

She stood up, dropping the stick in her hand. Connor quickly stood up too, but there was only one thing in his mind; understanding the girl.

''Your finger-”

“Can I go outside?" the girl asked, her eyes sparkling, every muscle in her skin expressing her curiosity and excitement.

Connor’s mouth hung open, not knowing what to say. The thoughts spinning in his head couldn’t make sense. He turned to Hank, but Hank had already diverted his gaze, engrossed in his own work.

"I- I don’t know, this might not be a good idea," he muttered, his voice hesitant and unsure.

The girl quickly passed by Connor and headed towards Hank, gesturing with her hands as if trying to explain something. Hank, holding a ladle, couldn’t make sense of her movements. He shook his head a few times but couldn’t figure out what she meant. Connor glanced at Hank and hurried over to them.

"She wants to go outside," he said, his face showing a slight hesitation. Despite how innocent the girl’s request seemed, he thought it could be dangerous.

Hank turned to her, frowning. "No fucking way, no-" he snapped. "It’s raining, and being outside is dangerous for you."

The girl turned to Connor, her eyes filled with insistence. She gestured again, "Please, just five minutes. I’ll be in the backyard."

Connor didn’t know what to say, feeling as though his entire body was burdened. His eyes met Hank’s determined gaze, but somehow he knew he had to resolve the situation. "Five minutes-"

Hank, without breaking eye contact, turned to him sharply. "What’s the point of being out there in this damn rain?"

"I’ll be with her," Connor said quietly, almost defending the girl. "It won’t take long, she won’t be alone, please."

Hank looked at the girl, as though no matter how much he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t shake the fear and anxiety inside him. Then his gaze shifted to Connor, and he took a deep breath. They remained silent for a few seconds. Waving the ladle in his hand, he said, "Shit, if something happens to her- I’ll tear you apart," though his tone softened, the permission he gave to the girl clearly worried him.

"Noted." Connor said with a slight smile.

The girl quickly headed for the backyard door and waited for Connor to catch up. Connor took a deep breath, and instead of uncertainty, a sense of calm began to settle in his eyes. He slowly walked toward the girl, taking careful steps. When she opened the door, the sound of the rain seemed to take over everything.

The first raindrop landed on her face, followed by another, one by one. It was as if every drop told a story, each one collecting a memory. She looked at the rain droplets that touched her hands, took a deep breath, and inhaled the cold air.

The rain seemed to be speaking to her with every drop; cold, yet soothing in its touch. It felt as if time had stopped, and everything was trapped in this moment. As the sound of the rain reached her ears, she felt a shiver run through her. The sound was like a melody, caressing her, touching the past, yet also linking her to the present.

"I love the rain," she signed, with a sense of peace. There was a change in her eyes as if she had never felt so close to the rain, so real. The rain, with every drop, seemed to tell her of a cold, sorrowful love. For the first time, she felt the chill of the rain, reflecting a deep meaning in her eyes.

"Me too," Connor replied, but his words felt insufficient. As he looked at the girl, a realization began to form in him. The rain, for him, might have been just a natural phenomenon, but for her, those droplets carried memories, and emotions, and were symbols of something much deeper. The girl’s perspective of the rain was changing the meaning of everything.

And now, Connor had changed. He would love the rain. Because for her, it was like the heartbeat of a life; to be apart from it, to not understand it, was to miss something. He knew then, he would never see the rain the same way again.

"So," he said suddenly as if trying to express a lingering problem. "I’m really sorry for my behavior, again."

The girl had already given him the option to forgive, so why was he apologizing?

Connor’s voice was drowned out by the sound of the rain, but somehow, it caught the girl’s attention. She pulled her gaze from the sky and looked at Connor, her eyes calm. "You can be sure I won’t do something like that again."

The girl smiled, Connor’s every word of explanation and effort to clarify himself seemed to make her feel better.

With a casual air, she signed, "It’s just...okay."

"Are you sure?" Connor was still hesitant, a doubt lingering in his eyes. Could it really be this easy to be forgiven? He still hadn’t resolved the discomfort within himself. The girl tilted her head slightly, then quietly turned back to the rain. Underneath the rain, there was a sense of peace mixed with sorrow.

The girl’s quick forgiveness and the sudden shift in her mood left Connor surprised. What had she been through? What had she experienced? These questions stormed into his mind. He wanted to understand the girl’s inner world and unravel her feelings. But somehow, everything felt different now. Her gaze, her world, her words… everything.

Without thinking for a moment, he said, "Oh, the rain’s getting heavier-" but the girl immediately replied, "You see? It’s like it’s dancing, with the wind."

Connor thought about her words, then turned to look at her. The girl’s eyes seemed to align with the dance of the rain as if she was swaying with every movement of the wind.

He watched her hands closely, focusing on her gestures. She wasn’t dancing, but every movement, every step, had its own rhythm. "They’re dancing without touching," she signed.

Connor remembered another moment. A sentence he’d read somewhere came to mind: ‘Pain transforms a person into a work of art.’ He had no idea how deep her pain was, but like an artist, he was in awe of every movement she made. The pain, the beauty, the silence- all were part of her. The girl carried depth in every glance, every word, every thought. Because of that, everything he felt about her was shifting into another dimension.

What was he feeling toward this girl? How had he grown so attached in such a short time? In three or four days… what had happened? He had fallen under her influence, there was a different kind of darkness, a different kind of light in her eyes.

Suddenly, he broke free from this chaos. He moved in front of the girl, extending his hand. With the flash of lightning, their faces lit up for a moment.

"Shall we dance?" he asked, unaware of the slight tremble in his voice.

The girl hesitated, looked at his hand carefully, then looked at his face. Extending her hand felt like disconnecting from the entire world. What should she say? What should she do? Was it the rain or Connor himself that was causing these strange feelings? She didn’t know. But she felt something shift inside her. She could sense it.

The girl looked at Connor’s hand, waiting for him to understand. Her eyes silently tried to convey something. At first, Connor didn’t understand, but as he watched the movement of her hand, he finally saw what she meant in her eyes.

"Oh- I know, i just thought we could be like...the rain and the wind- " he said, not turning it into a question. "We can dance without touching, right?"

The girl nodded slightly. Connor gathered his courage and extended his hand toward hers. Lifting it, he gently moved his fingers, barely an inch from her hand, letting the air between them speak. This was the first step.

He extended his other hand toward her waist, but the girl’s gaze gave him silent permission with a soft wink. Everything felt fluid, as if guided by an invisible force, but at the same time, it was strangely unfamiliar. He could sense the light tremble in her body, but everything seemed to blur into the rhythm of the moment. No words, no questions… just glances, and the beat of their movement.

The girl, without a moment’s hesitation, raised her other hand toward Connor’s shoulder, her fingers hovering just above it, not touching. At that moment, with the rhythm of the rain, the wind, and the dance, everything seemed to fall into place. Their arms were close, but their bodies never made contact. The wind accompanied each step they took, a silent partner in the dance. The rain sang its own melody with every subtle shift in movement.

One of them, perhaps for the first time, truly understood. This was more than dancing. It was the dance of two souls, drawn close, yet somehow never truly touching, connected in a way that words could never capture.

Their hands did not touch, but the pull of their presence kept them constantly on the edge. Like two magnets struggling not to touch, they pushed each other away, tearing themselves apart to avoid contact. The tension in the emptiness grew more pronounced with every movement.

Connor was trying to follow her steps. He was trying to see the rhythm through her eyes, to understand her movements. He was ready to leave his own reality behind to step into hers. But in truth, he had never felt this way before. Every choice he had made so far had pulled him deeper into darkness. He knew every decision had been wrong, yet he kept trying to make it seem as if it were right. It had always been like this. Until now. Here, now, this small gesture he made for her didn’t pull him into those deep, gnawing thoughts. For the first time, he was standing in the right place.

Her skin was pulling back to avoid contact with him. Connor noticed this. He could feel the struggle, her fingertips even fighting not to touch him. Every contact felt like reopening a wound, like being dragged into the past. And Connor understood this. Her avoidance was the same as his own escape from himself.

But tonight, they were here to forget the past. Under the rain, they would dance with each other. Nothing else should matter.

A few days ago, not forgiving him seemed like the right decision. Now she understood… They had both been born from the most brutal sides of this world. Their choices hadn’t been their own. What had brought them to this point had never been their desires. But now, for the first time, they were witnessing the realization of their own choices.

And perhaps that was exactly why they needed this moment.

Her steps faltered for a moment. The sudden cramp locked her whole body up. At this moment, when their hands didn’t touch, she shuddered with the sharp pain in her abdomen. Her fingers instinctively reached toward her body. What she had tried to forget now echoed inside her like a scream.

Connor noticed the sudden change in her movement. He tilted his head slightly, observing her closely. He took a step forward and leaned down, but hesitated when his fingers were about to touch her shoulder. He pulled his hand back.

“You okay?”

The system indicated that her body temperature was dropping, her heart rate had changed, and her muscle tension had increased. He made a logical deduction.

“Let’s go inside, you’ll catch a cold.”

He headed toward the door and opened it for her. But when he turned around… he saw that she was standing still, not moving at all.

Something was wrong.

He quickly went to her side.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?”

The girl lifted her eyes from her stomach. She touched her hair and took a deep breath. The raindrops sliding down her face were mixing with her tears, helping her hide her pain. But it wasn’t enough. The redness in her eyes betrayed her.

Connor’s voice softened.

“Did I do something wrong? If I did-”

She immediately shook her head.

“No, no—”

She wiped her face with her hands and quickly turned back to him. She shouldn’t say it. She knew that. If she said it… everything would change. They would want to keep that child alive. Connor… maybe that was why he would betray her. She could understand his pain, but- but saying it felt like it would drag her into an irreversible point.

Connor waited patiently.

“What’s the problem then?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Tell me.”

Her eyes clouded for a moment. What they had been through perhaps came to her mind. Connor didn’t want to pressure her with questions, but he couldn’t stop her from standing there in the cold.

“Please.”

Her lips parted. Words got stuck in her throat, her pain seemed to have sealed her windpipe.

She wanted to say something. There were so many things she needed to say…

The taste of my agony lingers- wrench the venom from my veins, or let me perish, choking on its ghost.

Help me unwrite the echoes my bruises murmur against my skin or stand in the distance as time devours their remains.

Save me.

Oh, I am on my knees- save me.

But all these words echoed in the depths of her mind, nothing came out.

Her throat tightened, her lips parted, but her vocal cords betrayed her. Her breath trembled as it filled her lungs, but the words, the sentences that needed to be ripped out from inside, were still stuck. She wanted to say them. She wanted to scream, to get rid of the burning weight inside her.

Meanwhile, Connor was carefully observing the expression on her face. The data showed that her body temperature was rapidly dropping, and her heart rate was becoming irregular. Within seconds, many different possibilities crossed his system, hypothermia? Low blood sugar? Physical trauma? But the expression in her eyes… this was something entirely different. This wasn’t just physical pain; it was the expression of a deep mental collapse that she couldn’t escape.

As the raindrops slid from her chin and fell to the ground, Connor waited. Her breathing was irregular. She seemed lost in her inner battle. Her fingers trembled in the air. At that moment, she moved her hands without even realizing where they were going.

She wanted to say something. Connor knew that. The storm in her eyes told everything. But in that storm, she was drowning, and as she tried to get the words out, she was sinking deeper.

Just a few seconds. Maybe more. Time seemed to stop at that moment, even for Connor. The rhythmic sound of the rain, the flickering light from the streetlamps, the distant sound of a siren… everything, every sound, fell silent.

Then, her fingers twitched slightly. A silent movement. Simple. But it was so deep.

Connor, without realizing how his body reacted to it, instinctively focused on her movements.

One word.

Then another.

And then…

Those words hit his mind and echoed.

It was as if the whole world collapsed around him in an instant. Every function in his system paused for a second. Protocols crashed, and thought processes were interrupted.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Text

Words weren’t always necessary. Sometimes a pair of eyes, a trembling lip, or the barely perceptible weight on someone’s shoulders could howl louder than the greatest of sentences. Even when no words were said, understanding could still emerge. Sometimes the silence itself spoke louder than language. A whisper hidden in eyes, a tremor of reproach in hands, a scream echoing from within the quiet…

But that day…That day, the girl had abandoned that habit. She no longer spoke with her eyes- she let her words pour out directly with her hands. With fragile courage, she turned the truth she had suppressed into speech. And in the end, with naked loneliness, she received no response. Only her own words struck the walls- empty, echoing, and cold.

“I’m pregnant.”

The moment Connor heard it, he froze. He didn’t blink, didn’t turn his head, he just stared. If anyone had seen him in that moment, they’d think his systems had crashed, that something inside him had shattered. Yet no mechanical component had failed. Something else was broken. Deeper. Irreparable.

Connor thought, calculating thousands of possibilities in seconds. But no calculation offered a resolution. Every outcome crashed into a wall; every option drowned in impossibility. Still, he felt something, a hope that maybe everything could be taken back, fixed…But this hope carried shame. Because to still wish for things to go back to the way they were felt wrong.

But it was already too late. Time had reached a point of no return.

The girl was pregnant.

Connor remained fixed on her eyes. Despite the thousands of thoughts passing through his mind, only silence leaked out. Words crashed inside his head, paralyzing him with the weight of not finding an answer. This was a question that tested the limits of being human.And damn it, he needed an answer.

Pregnant.

But the girl didn’t need words. A gesture, a gaze, a step, even a hug, anything would suffice to say: “You’re not alone.”

Connor, however, was rooted to the spot. He wanted to embrace her, to give her something to lean on but he couldn’t. Perhaps he would never know who needed whom more.

Then another ghost appeared in his mind. That man, Zlatko. The owner of that darkness. The price of this child. Connor silently cursed. Behind his emotionless, blank face, a storm raged. He should kill that man with his own hands.

But reality was this: She was pregnant. What could he do? Should he take her to a doctor? But then Cyberlife and the FBI would find out. He didn’t even know how far along she was,her abdomen was still flat. Could medication work now? Was time lost? God… How had she gotten pregnant? An android, half-human, now pregnant. An impossibility layered upon an impossibility.

His mind filled with dark thoughts. But he had to think- maybe, yes maybe- she wants this child.

He shook his head slowly. No. He’d gone too far. She wouldn’t want that. He could read it in her eyes.

He needed to hand her over. Now. Immediately to Cyberlife. Amanda would handle it. She always had solutions-No- Amanda knew this girl. She knew her situation, despite knowing,had remained silent.

He was spiraling into chaos.

Suddenly the girl clicked her fingers. Connor snapped back to the momentShe was drenched by the rain, but still silent.

“Are you okay?”she signed.

Connor was speechless. He blinked; a flicker of disbelief crossed his eyes as he processed what had been signed to him.

“Uh… umm… sorry? Excuse me… what did you say?”

She gestured again and wiped rain from her face. But Connor wasn’t even looking at her anymore.

“Oh Am i okay? Oh haha..Am i? Fuck, could you for once think about yourself?” he exploded, his voice unexpectedly loud. Uncertainty and fear had driven him to this state. “Even now, you ask if I’m okay? I-”

She stepped back, lowering her hands. She was frightened. But Connor didn’t stop.

“I’m trying to think what I can do for you, and yet you don’t even care about yourself!”

She narrowed her eyes and spat back through clenched teeth, “Then you’re no different from me,”her hands flailed. “You don’t care about yourself, either. You just stood there- I thought something bad had happened to you! That’s why-You knkw what! Whatever. Just forget it. Forget I ever said anything.”

Without another word, she passed by him. The rain, now up to their chests, soaked them both. Water dripped from their clothes as she rushed toward the house.

Connor didn’t move. He felt as though his feet were nailed to the ground,yet then…

“Wait, wait- I…”

He covered the distance in a few strides. The sound of rain hissed like whispers in his ears but his voice cut through them.

She stopped at her doorstep. Slowly turned around. Connor, a short distance away, was panting as he spoke.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have yelled,” he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. “I was just… thinking so much, trying to find the right response. And when I couldn’t… I panicked. And then you said that…I just wanted to hel-”

She clenched her fists tightly, the tension visible in every line of her body. “I didn’t want your damn help! I just… I didn’t want to keep it all trapped inside, I needed to say it. That’s all, okay?”

Her words hit him sharply, but beneath the surface, she felt herself unraveling. How could she explain that it wasn’t about pushing him away? That it was the fear of being seen as weak, of losing control, that made her lash out? She had spent so long building walls around her emotions, believing that if she let anyone in, they’d see the broken pieces she kept hidden.

She hated how her hands betrayed her, signing cold, distant words when all she wanted was warmth and understanding. It was easier to sound angry, to keep him at arm’s length, than to admit how much she needed help. But inside, the ache was growing, raw and relentless.

Her breath hitched as tears threatened to spill. She forced herself to look away, afraid that if he saw her like this, it would confirm everything she feared, that she was too fragile, too damaged to be cared for.

Connor remained silent for a long moment. His thoughts tumbled over one another, trying to make sense of what his eyes had just read from her hands. He realized now that this wasn’t about pushing him away; it was about her struggling to express a pain she didn’t know how to share. He thought about all the times she’d hidden her feelings behind sharp words and cold gestures, afraid to show weakness.

Slowly, he lowered his head, as if the weight of everything unsaid had finally begun to settle on his shoulders. His hands, once clenched in frustration, loosened at his sides. For a moment, he said nothing. Just stood there, staring at the ground, drawing in a long, uneven breath as though trying to push all the anger and guilt out of his chest.

Another breath followed, slower this time. His jaw slackened. When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper, careful and quiet, like speaking too loudly might shatter something delicate between them.

“You’re right,” he said, the words crawling out of him like they’d been buried under too much pride. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m… sorry.”

The apology hovered in the space between them, raw and unfamiliar. Not forced, but fragile, like a bridge carefully being rebuilt, one trembling word at a time. Neither of them moved right away. The silence wasn’t cold now, but cautious, like they were both holding their breath, afraid that any sudden motion might collapse what little trust was left standing.

She didn’t respond. Not immediately. Her body stayed still, stiff even, like she hadn’t yet decided if she could believe what she just saw. Her gaze dropped to the floor. Then, after a moment that felt stretched thin by hesitation, she let her eyes flutter shut.

A shaky breath escaped her lips.

It was small- barely audible, but it seemed to cost her everything.

Her hands rose slowly, halting mid-air for a second, fingers twitching, as if unsure they were allowed to speak. The gesture was hesitant, uncertain, like someone stepping out into light after too long in the dark. Her shoulders trembled with the effort of it.

Then, quietly, deliberately, she began to sign.

Each movement of her fingers carried not just language, but pain- dense and unspoken. A story trapped behind silence. Her hands shaped the apology with aching gentleness, as though her skin itself remembered all the moments she’d held back, all the things she hadn’t dared to say before.

Tears spilled from her eyes before she even realized she was crying. They ran in silent trails down her cheeks, catching on her chin, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her lips quivered as she continued signing, breath catching now and then, chest rising and falling with each wave of emotion.

“I’m sorry too,”she signed, the voice echoing only inside her mind. “I didn’t mean it- Sorry.”

Connor understood then. She wasn’t hurt by his anger. It was his silence that broke her heart.

All she needed was simple. But a solution… was a dream. If anyone found them, Cyberlife would take her.

Only one option remained.

Jericho. The underground android sanctuary. Perhaps she could find help there. Perhaps there was a real answer waiting.

“Look, I’ll fix this,” Connor said. In that vow, he felt unready to bear its weight. "I promise."

The girl inhaled deeply. Her breath trembled. Her eyes, swollen with tears, but behind that sadness, not just pain. A faint flicker of hope- small, but real. She felt something stirring inside, stirring for the first time in a long time. Perhaps trust. Perhaps belief. Perhaps just the presence of something truly hers.

Because now, something had changed. She didn’t know what lay ahead, more pain? Endless questions? But no longer would she surrender. She had something to hold onto. Her own being. Someone outside the cage. Amid the heaviness of that moment, it felt like a warmth passing through.

She signed silently, “Thank you, Thank you- Really.”

She stepped forward, hesitant but resolute. Her hands rose, slow, tentative. Almost touching him. Fingertips hovered in the air, just inches apart. As if one touch could heal everything. As if one touch could tie her back to life…

But Connor stepped back. One step. Then another. Quietly. Slowly.

He looked at her with all he had.

Because he knew her,perhaps even better than she knew herself. Her hands remained raised, trying to bridge the distance. But as he moved away, they lowered again.

What held him back wasn’t hesitation,it was understanding. He had seen her pattern: retreat before closeness. If he touched her now… it might shatter the fragile trust she had just started to build.

And she sensed it. She didn’t look away. In his eyes, she saw her own reflection- frightened, yet resolved not to give up.

“Hey, hey! Are you listening to me? Connor?”Hank waved a hand in front of his face, his voice sharp and impatient. “Goddammit, are you zoning out again, giving your little mental report to HQ or something?”

Connor slowly turned to face him, tilting his head slightly in a way that clearly said I missed that. The conversation from the night before was still looping in his mind. He couldn’t stay present.

“Apologies, Lieutenant. Could you please repeat that?”

With a grunt, Hank tossed the freshly delivered case file onto Connor’s desk. The paper skidded across the metal surface with a soft hiss. Connor blinked, scanning the pages quickly, but without really reading. Then he looked up.

“Are we being assigned to a new case?”

Hank leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes drift around the room. He seemed to weigh his words before speaking.

“Someone’s been brought in.”

“You’ll need to be more specific.”

Hank raised a finger to his lips, signaling him to keep quiet. “Someone reported to have escaped from Zlatko’s place.” He paused.“Actually, scratch ‘reported.’ The file says it’s confirmed. But here’s the weird part: there’s no official confession. Not even a single line on record.”

“Where is the subject?”

Hank stood up. “In the interrogation room. Waiting for us.”

Connor hesitated, then spoke. “Lieutenant, no offense, but… wasn’t this case taken over by the FBI?”

Hank stopped, rolled his eyes. “Do you see the FBI anywhere around here?” His tone made it clear: this was skirting the edge of legality. Chances were, even the detainee’s presence in that room was unauthorized.

Connor nodded without protest and started walking toward the interrogation room.

Getting to the suspect before the FBI meant they had a small window to find some real answers. Time was short but valuable.

Hank stepped into the observation room. Connor followed, pausing by the glass. His eyes locked onto the android sitting in the interrogation chair.

The figure bore the same demeanor as other victims: slumped posture, silent, unblinking, eyes glassy and vacant. His body was covered in visible signs of trauma. Bruises. Burns. Gashes.

Connor took one heavy step toward the door.

“Hey! Whoa, hold on a second.” Hank grabbed his shoulder .“Maybe I should handle the questioning this time.”

Connor didn’t respond. He just looked at him.

Hank still didn’t know exactly what had happened the previous day. But something had. The tension between Connor and the girl had been thick, strange. No one had touched their food, and Connor had left early.

Hank could see it, Connor wasn’t fully back. His focus was frayed. One misworded question could ruin everything they might uncover.

“Just stay here-"

“Lieutenant,” Connor cut in. “I’ll do my best.”

And without waiting for a reply, he stepped into the interrogation room.

In the dim quiet that followed, Hank stayed behind in the observation room, staring through the glass. A thousand thoughts weighed down on him, hidden cases, half-written reports, buried truths…

And if anything happened to Connor right now, He truly didn’t know what he would do.

Connor opened the door and stepped into the interrogation room, his steps cautious. He pushed the file on the table aside and studied the android in front of him. Its structure wasn’t human-like, its sclera was entirely black, irises glowing red. For a moment, Connor felt like he was in a Terminator movie. This android wasn’t like the girl. It had also been modified, but it was purely mechanical.

Everything felt like part of a sick game. Someone had turned an android into a machine for fun.

“Are you one of the androids who killed Zlatko?” Connor asked.

The android locked eyes with him and then smiled. The trembling in His hands from just seconds ago was now gone. Confidence had taken over his entire being.

“Yes.” He raised his head and spoke with pride. “We beat him to death.”

He lifted his arm. Connor subtly reached for his weapon. The android noticed and moved cautiously.

“I killed him with the hands he gave me, detective.”

“How many of you were there?”

No answer.

“What was going on in that house?” Connor shifted the question.

The android tilted his head, then smiled bitterly. “Things that can’t be described.”

Connor waited. He wanted the silence to summon the words.

“You should be careful who you work for, detective. CyberLife- ohh… CyberLife. There was someone there, from Control.”

“Zlatko?” Connor asked, curiosity sparking.

“No… No, no.” The android shook its head, locking its eyes on Connor. “Wait- you really have no idea, do you?”

“Who was it?” Connor’s voice was laced with restrained anger.

“A woman… an android. She was above Zlatko. That woman used to inspect each of us one by one.”

“Why?”

“All I know… is that nothing belongs to me anymore. Except the memories in my head.”

“What were they doing there?”

“Some kind of experiment. At first, I thought it was being done to humans, but then… Jesus! I realized where my parts were going.”

Connor’s eyes widened. He was so close to the answers.

“And then… I saw a creature. Like some secret Frankenstein project from the government. They were experimenting on both humans and androids using our parts. Oh man, you should’ve seen that thing!”

Just then, the door burst open. Fowler stormed in. Connor didn’t even look back. Hank followed, grabbing Fowler’s arm.

“Hey! Joff, calm down-"

“No time for this.” Connor moved on instinct. There was no hesitation, time was running out. He grabbed the android’s left arm; his fingers locked around the cold metal. His eyes narrowed, his face set. Instantly, the link was made-data began to stream in.

Blurry images flashed before his eyes at first; shapes, sounds, fragmented dialogue… Information flooded his mind. Suddenly, he was walking through someone else’s memories. Traces of lived experiences, emotions vibrating between the frames, scenes witnessed by the android collided with Connor’s mind.

As he moved through the memories, his pupils flickered. His breath changed. A woman… dressed in white… a scent… a voice… a cage, fear, androids backing away… Connor was still trying to understand what he was seeing when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Connor,” said Fowler. His voice was firm but concerned. “That’s enough.”

Connor flinched. His eyes remained glazed, unwilling to break the connection. But Fowler’s grip tightened.

“We’re leaving.”

Even as his mind was still drowning in images, Connor let go of the android’s arm. He stepped back. Fowler grabbed him by the arm and led him out. The images sharpened and sped up.

And Connor… had completely lost himself. His mind echoed in the dark chambers of the past. Fowler and Hank’s voices were now distant hums.

But their voices didn’t matter.

Because what Connor saw now… was the girl’s cage open. The lock loosened, the door ajar. The other androids were cautiously trying to help her out. There was no threat in their hands, only the desire to help, to save. But the girl, her eyes filled with fear and deep confusion, pulled back. She hesitated for a few seconds… then slowly raised her hands.

With trembling fingers, she closed the cage door. The metal squeaked as it latched back into place. She grasped the lock and, without hesitation, resecured it.

In that moment, Connor understood everything. This wasn’t just an action. It was a defense mechanism. The girl had grown used to the cage. She saw it as a refuge. Her trauma had made the chains invisible. To her, the outside wasn’t freedom, it was uncertainty. Danger. The cage, for all its darkness and coldness, was now safety. Because the nightmare that had begun there… hadn’t ended. It had only gone quiet.

The other androids froze, unsure of what to do. Then one of them- perhaps the most wounded, turned away from the cage. His fists clenched. Hatred flared in his eyes. Not because he rejected the girl’s choice, but because he couldn’t protect her. The others followed his gaze. Together, they made a silent decision.

They left behind someone they couldn’t save- to save those who still could be.

What followed… was the image of androids attacking Zlatko with whatever they could find-

Why hadn’t she moved when the androids tried to rescue her, yet offered no resistance when He and Hank came to save her-

Stop- A woman…

Wearing white. The fabric so bright, it almost reflected light- sterile, cold. Her shoes were jet black, loud. The sharp click of her heels shredded the silence with each step. Eye contact was impossible; all that could be seen was the sway of her dress, the rhythm of her steps.

Breathing, rapid and short. But they weren’t Connor’s breaths. The androids around him were panicking, he could feel their chest plates trembling with each inhale. All eyes were fixed on one spot. Fear thickened the air.

The woman walked steadily toward the cages. The androids retreated like chained animals, hiding in the shadows of the bars. Some crouched into corners. Others bowed their heads.

The android whose memory this was, reacted the same.

Then… someone else entered. A man. Probably Zlatko. He stood beside the woman in front of the cages.

They never spoke. They just stood there.

The android’s perspective was fixed. Faces couldn’t be seen. Only shadows, outlines.

How old was this memory? How corrupted? Fragmented, distorted, incomplete… But the emotion was clear: Danger.

The woman lifted her hand. Graceful, but commanding.

“That one,” she said. Her voice was eerily calm.

The android’s gaze followed her finger. The memory’s owner recognized the one being pointed at. A quiet one. Not a coward, but broken.

“No! No, please don’t!” the android screamed. They ran- to their side.

The woman didn’t even blink.

“This android’s thirium pump will suffice,” she said.

Zlatko nodded and opened the cage. Another appeared, large male android. Square jaw, body built for power.

They stepped inside. Zlatko tried to take the chosen android.

Connor- no, the memory’s owner- tried to stop them. But the large android swatted them into a corner. Their legs went numb.

They couldn’t stop the screams or the violence that followed.

The pounding. The cries. The agony echoing inside the cage.

The large android seized the chosen one. They couldn’t resist. As they fell, their eyes locked with the memory’s owner’s.

“Wait,” the woman said suddenly.

Her voice was so clear, it stopped everything. Zlatko and the other android froze.

She approached the cage silently.

“Actually, her father’s thirium pump would be more suitable.”

Her voice… something about it struck Connor. Cold, but familiar.

Zlatko laughed and bowed his head. “As you wish, Ma'am.”

He signaled to the larger android. The android dropped the victim and locked the cage.

Before leaving, the woman stopped Zlatko.

“You’d do well to be more careful. Don’t turn this into pleasure. We can’t afford her death.”

Zlatko cleared his throat. “Yes, you’re right.”

She had raped the girl to the brink of death. It was obvious. Connor didn’t want to see any more, didn’t want to hear more.

The memory’s owner dragged themselves to the bars, gripped them tightly. With rage. With helplessness. The bars trembled. As if they could tear them apart but there was no strength left.

And the sound- the woman’s footsteps again, approaching the cage.

Connor saw her face for the first time. But he still didn’t recognize her. It was like a shadow. Not clear. Only a silhouette…

And the memory ended when her face came into focus.

Connor was yanked back to reality. Hank’s voice echoed from a distance.

“Damn it, Connor! I handled everything, and you’re off in dreamland again!”

Connor turned to him. But all he could see was terror.

This wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t a coincidence.

Amanda.

She was the one pulling the strings in the dark. She had orchestrated Zlatko’s horrors. And now… Connor knew.

How hadn’t he seen it before? They had been close for so long. He should’ve known they were in it together. Thinking Zlatko was in charge had been foolish. Amanda didn’t take orders from him! What had he been thinking?

Connor stared blankly at Hank but he wasn’t really seeing him. He wasn’t really hearing him.

There was something in the air. Like the scent of metal… but deeper. Like the musty dust of memories.

A clicking sound inside his mind, as if some system had forced open a locked door. And now… everything he’d left outside was pouring in.

“Connor. I trust you.” Amanda’s voice echoed in his head. Sweet. Persuasive. Cold, but sincere-sounding.

For months, he had followed that voice like a compass. Taken orders, made decisions. He had trusted her.

But now?

“Connor, I make the best decisions for you. You don’t need to question anything.”

Another memory. At the time, those words were reassuring. But now… they were chains.

Connor’s lips trembled. His fists clenched at his sides.

His circuits were spinning. Hundreds of files, memories, commands, collapsing on him like an avalanche.

And Amanda was in every single one.

Zlatko… was Amanda’s torturer, her puppet.

So what did that make him?

“Humans carry emotional weaknesses, Connor. You do not.”

But he felt. It was like a knife in his chest… An android heart. But it was real.

Connor stepped back. Swallowed. His breath caught in his throat.

Hank was still talking, but the sound was muffled. Just an echo now.

Because Connor was falling, into the depths of his own mind.

He dropped to the floor. Grabbed his head. Shaking.

“I…” His voice cracked. “I worked for her. I carried out… her orders.”

Hank knelt beside him, touched his shoulder. “Son? Hey! hey listen to me!”

But Connor’s eyes were lost again.

“Trust me, Connor. I can guide you better than anyone.”

Amanda’s voice was no longer a comfort. It was a threat. It still echoed inside him.

But something had changed.

Amanda’s mask had fallen. And for the first time- Connor felt like he was not her puppet.